All About the Heat (Krissie0

Okay, I slept late. It’s miserably, blastingly hot. Well, not by a lot of people’s standards, but by mine. We don’t have much air conditioning up here, and it’s never a dry heat. You’ve heard me complain loud and long about the lack of a summer. Nature decided to give it to us in September, after the pool and the portable air conditioner were put away, after the killing frost, after enough cold weather to make the lake really chilly. It’ll probably reach 90 today, maybe higher. On the weather map Burlington is the hottest city, hotter than Orlando. It makes me grumpy.
But. I finished the book! Saturday was too hot to do much, so I sat on the desk and decided to write long-hand, since I seemed to have a mental block with this book and I couldn’t make myself finish it. I wrote for hours on the deck. When the sun reached me I moved to the side deck, and when the sun reached there I dragged the chaise and moved to the front lawn, which never gets sun. (We’re entirely private with 20 acres, btw. Back when we built 20 acres cost $15,000.)
I wrote so much the muscles isn my arm were cramping (not the hand, interestingly enough). I wrote until the happy ending, I even added a coda (maybe if I call it a coda Jenny won’t realize it’s an epilogue and yell at me. Just kidding – she never yells. She just looks at me sadly and shakes her head).
So, today. Business Monday, transcribing all those pages into the computer (my Dragon Dictate no longer works and the new one is $300 so transcribing R us.) And then the great unknown.
I got up in the middle of the sweltering night, came downstairs and dragged boxes and boxes away from the outside door in my office so I could get a cross-draft. And I do have a nice blue fan Crusie gave me, so I won’t melt.
Mind you, at 10 degrees I wear gloves. At 0 I button up my coat. Minus 10 and I might even wear a hat. Minus 20 I’ll wear silken long johns. I’m like the logger, if you remember that song.

Hmmm. I don’t think that works. Let me see.  Oh, looks like it does.

Anyway, enough about the weather.  It’s small potatoes (a great X-Files episode, BTW) compared to hurricanes and earthquakes, and I’ll stop bitching.  We’ll go do geriatric tubing – I climb on the floatie (maybe even the one that kept dunking me in the pool) and we’ll tie a rope to the kayak and Richie will paddle me in the lake.  It looks ridiculous and it’s wonderful.  I do have the best husband.

But now – work.  Work work work.  And perhaps one more song.


Anyone joining me?

Krissie: Ugh

Not that I’m seriously complaining. Who could, with such a glorious new granddaughter? I still can’t quite get over it.
Nevertheless, real life is intruding and I’m here to bitch. This comes perilously close to That Which Shall Not be Named, but it’s still okay.

Here are Jenny and Lani and my fast and loose rules about Refab. It’s not for us pushing our own books. It’s not for promo for other people. It’s most definitely not for complaining about sales and the publishing business and all that sort of misery. But it can get kind of gray. We want to celebrate when we’ve accomplished something, but it gets a little tricky when so many of us are putting out books. So we try to stick with cool stuff, like Kindle Daily Deals and the like, or audio versions, or stuff that looks like fun. If it’s occasionally unfair blame me. I’m just trying to keep us away from commercialism.

We can talk about managing to get words down, the problems with writers block and writing, though Jenny has for discussing writing and publishing. I have drama queen at which I seldom use but will use more often for the next month, and maybe I’ll get in the habit, but in the meantime if I need to bitch about not getting my words down or crow about writing a shit-load it’s gonna be here. And I’m happy to hear the rest of you talk about how many words you did or didn’t write if that’s what you’re doing.

Today I’m gonna bitch about promo, and it comes close to That Which Shall Not Be Named. But you know, I gotta crab to someone and you guys are it.

I’m celebrating my 40 years as a writer. Well, as a published writer of romance novels. My first book came out in April of 1974 when I was in utero (ha!) and I’ve been writing ever since. So Jenny and I were brainstorming on how to celebrate it and she came up with 40 days for 40 years, which made sense. Of course it’s taken me forever to get it together and time was running out so I’m starting it on the 21st (tomorrow) of March and going all the way through April. Not here, though, guys. On Facebook, and twitter and my website.

But all this stuff is a phenomenal amount of work. I came up with the list of prizes and freebies etc. a few days ago, and it took me about an hour (for only 9 days worth — I thought March had 30 days). Then I had to send the list off to my agent who handles some of the books, then make some changes. Today I had to write up tweets and FB entries for the first 10 days (hence discovering there are 31 days in March). Now I have to go and write blog entries for those ten days. Then I’ll have to go and scan photos and contracts and letters and book covers and the like. And get the prizes that aren’t Amazon deals together and ready to go (Richie will do the labeling and sending them out, thank god). Man, this is so much freaking work! I want to write books, she whines.

But how many writers are still going strong 40 years later? And still writing really good stuff? It’s worth celebrating, and no one else could write my blog entries, which are going to talk about my history and the business and stuff. Maybe I just need to accept the fact that I’m spending the rest of March and April doing this, and it’s worthy work. Except I never feel okay unless I’m writing. And that kind of writing doesn’t count.

So many people I know can afford assistants. Not me. Which ties into the very basis of all my mental health issues going back to my childhood. Which I’ll be happy to talk about but it’s too detailed to go into now. Bottom line is that it’s all up to me, and this stuff really is (it’s all the other stuff that isn’t, but I feel like it is).

But I digress. Coming here is fun and feeds my soul. Writing the other blog is usually a duty. But I’m hacking away at it, bit by bit, and maybe I’ll learn how to love it. Maybe.

Anyway, that’s what I’m doing today, instead of writing something new or finishing up my great-nephew’s quilt. Grumble grumble. But Alison is coming home today — my son has gone to pick up his partner and their new baby at the hospital and is bringing them him. Such magic words! So that’s enough complaining for today.

Babies are calling.