Wednesday, November 16, 2011

I should post once in a while.

So it's been exactly one while since I posted last.

Update:  the lower something-or-knobby-other than sticks out on the end of a femur is the bone that is cracked, not broken, on my mom's leg.  My mother remains unconcerned about laying blame and is just lying around healing.  And trying to scratch inside the (somelongname) splint she's wearing.

Novel update:  (novel as noun, not adjective)  I had to make a decision this week.  Decisions make me fractious.  The Novel, as is, is not quite adult and not quite YA, so Changes had to be made.  But first I had to decide who I was writing for.  Some people decide this before they write a book.  These, I suspect, are people who actually believe they can actually write an actual whole book before they have shuffled off this mortal coil.  I am only one of those people who believe that because, whoops, I did it.

So it was either make it grittier or replace the protagonists mother, who was kind of a co-protagonist, with someone much younger and therefore someone the imaginary YA reader wanted to read about.  Nothing grittier occurred to me, but a spiky teenaged year old girl, all elbows and wild hair, showed up and told me her name was Greer, and she was perfectly capable of raising one young boy.  (she actually didn't tell me her name.  I had to guess.  I guessed for days.)

Weird writing thingummy:  I pondered how to effect such a change.  "Maybe," I thought, driving around doing errands, "Kirna could die in childbirth." and suddenly there was, in my imaginary head, an outraged shriek, and someone saying "I will most certainly NOT die in childbirth."  The discussion continued until I found a way to get rid of Kirna that she would agree to.

Animal update: (also noun, although what other part of speech could animal be?)  She is currently gently bewildered, as I have barricaded her into the dining room because she has a sore back.  More accurately, she has a sore back when she is not taking anti-inflammatories (with a syringe!  I squirt them into her mouth and she tries to lick them off her tongue!  It's very entertaining.)  Even though the drugs take away her pain, she must continue to act like she is in pain if her back is to get any better, ie, not jumping on the couch, or racing up the stairs, or being an enthusiastic small dog.

There is no way to explain this to her, so I have barricaded her into the dining room, so instead of sitting at my feet staring at me because she is in pain, she is sitting at my feet staring at me because she wants to lie on her blanket on the couch.

And that's all I have to say for, oh, a while or two.

No comments: