Welcome to the writing zone

I've officically crossed over into the writing zone. It's been a long time since I've been this deep into a novel. NaNo, my usual novel churning out time is filled with in-person meet-ups and online writerly fun. Short story and revision periods are accompanied by critiquing and chatting online with other writerly types. Full on novel writing? Well, I crawl into the back of my writing cave and turn into Gollum.

Signs you've crossed the line into the writing zone:

-You send your kid to school, knowing they don't feel well, so you can have your morning writing time. (Hey, he didn't have a fever, and wasn't throwing up or bleeding. I did tell him I would come and pick him up if he really needed me to.)

-You are a notorious do-not-disturb-before-10am weekend person but now wake up at 7am to write in silence while everyone else sleeps in.

-You have always been night writing person, but when life hands you a quiet morning schedule, you find yourself staring at a wide-awake morning writer person on the mirror. When the hell did this atrosity happen?

-You bring your kid to the money pit known as Chuck E. Cheese on a busy weekend and hand her $10 so you can have half an hour of writing time surrounded by the not quite white noise of fifty pizza-smeared kids screaming in glee. Sadly that half an hour also included turning in the tickets and five minutes of picking out trinkets. (We'll know I'm in real trouble when I sink to giving her $20.)

-And the final nail in the coffin: You are a professional procrasintator but now barely get on the internet because you'd truly rather be writing. (Sorry, all my usual procrastionation sites, I'll be back... eventually.)

Six Sentence Sunday: Not Another Bard's Tale 2

This week we meet Olga, swordswoman extraordinaire and protector of Svetlana, her sister, the chosen one of the Sheep God.

Olga took an offered sword from the crowd and approached Bruce with a gleam in her eye. Her skirts swished with each step forward. She slashed at him with all the force of a hardened swordsman.

He scrambled to block her, his wrist reverberating with the power behind her blow. Realizing she meant business, he tried to stop watching her chest bounce with each thrust, and concentrate more on making himself look less inept. He swore she tugged her blouse a bit lower just to taunt him.

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.

Post Thief

Thank you, Blogger, for removing my current post with all its whacked out spacing issues you inflicted on it. Your awesomeness never ceases to amaze me. If you could magic back my post and the comments Liz and Fred were kind enough to leave, I'll cut back on my sarcasm. Maybe. (But don't bet on it, it's just who I am.)

Spring yard tour

I've still been busy writing, and am happy to report an average of 1,500 words a day. As such, I'm short on witty energy to share. Instead, I give you evidence that spring is in full bloom in my yard.

Spring wouldn't be complete without tulips

Carpet Phlox

New tulips I planted last fall.

The cherry tree is in full bloom.

The tulips have come back year after year. Gotta love that.

And the stragglers, those bulbs I find while redoing flowebeds that get thrown in a hole to see what color comes up.

Six Sentence Sunday: Not Another Bard's Tale

I'm switching SSS gears this week to a Fantasy novel full of fun. One of these days I'll get around to writing the middle of Not Another Bard's Tale, but for now, I offer you Bruce, our not-so-fearless knight, as he mets the dragon for the first time.

The dragon snatched up the seer and chewed with what appeared to be a satisfied smile. It swallowed, then picked at one of his dagger-length teeth with a claw. Bruce's silver coin fell onto the counter. The dragon’s rancid, hot breath blasted over him. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest lake is, do you? I always find mystics a bit dry.”

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.