Sneak Peek–The Old River Road~Pt 2

Yay! You’re back! Enjoy the second part of Chapter 1. Read Part 1 here.

 

~~~

Clara tried to answer her sister, but William spoke before she had a chance.

“Miss Boutwell had an encounter with a mud puddle, which was entirely my fault.”

Clara vainly stifled a giggle as Esther looked up to William’s handsome face. Esther’s rosy cheeks flushed and Clara saw her eyes widen.

“Your fault?” Esther asked, her gaze fixed on William.

“He bumped me and I fell into a puddle,” Clara said quickly. She shrugged William’s coat off her back and handed it to him. “Sorry to ruin your coat.”

William smiled and took the coat, handing Clara’s books to Esther. “No problem. Dirt and water will wash out. Again, I apologize for my carelessness.”

“No need to apologize. It’s been quite a long time since I went for a swim in a puddle.” Clara smiled at him and let her eyes flash childishly.

William laughed and let himself out the door. “Good afternoon.”

Esther let out a dramatic sigh when the knob clicked shut. “Ohhhh Clara, he’s so handsome!” she squealed. “Who is he? Where did you meet him?”

Clara groaned. “I’ll tell you later. Please Esther, stop being dramatic and help me out of these clothes. I’m freezing.”

“Alright, alright.” Esther dropped her playful teasing and helped Clara up the stairs.

Esther was twenty years old; three whole years older than Clara. She was the youngest of Clara’s older sisters, and the one Clara was closest to. Though Esther wasn’t a biological sister, she bore such resemblance to all four Boutwell women that no one ever guessed she had been adopted. Clara didn’t remember exactly when Esther had come to live with them…they had both been such little girls and Esther had been very quiet and reserved the first few months, grieving the death of her father, who had raised her since her birth.

“Clara?” a sweet voice called from the top of the staircase. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Mother.” A part of her hoped that her mother would stay where she couldn’t see her; shivering and filthy as she was.

“My goodness, Child, what happened to you?” Mrs. Boutwell asked as Clara alighted the staircase.

“I fell into a puddle on my way home.” An attack of chills overcame her as she spoke, making her words tremble.

“Oh Clara, you’re so unromantic,” Esther chided. “No Mama, an extremely handsome young man bumped Clara and threw her into the puddle. He walked her home and even made her wear his coat.”

Mrs. Boutwell’s hand flew to her mouth.

“It was an accident, Mother.” Clara firmly resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Esther. “He didn’t mean to bump me. Neither one of us was watching where we were going. Mr. McDonald was kind enough to make sure I made it home without freezing.”

Mrs. Boutwell sighed and shook her head, but Clara thought she saw a hint of a smile playing at her mother’s lips. “Let’s get you out of those clothes and into a hot tub. Esther, please put some water on the fire.”

“Yes, Mother.” Esther turned back down the staircase and Mrs. Boutwell led Clara into the master bedroom.

The Boutwells certainly weren’t considered wealthy, but they lived a comfortable life in the city. Clara’s father, a War veteran, was the pastor of a local Presbyterian church. He also earned a good living being in the Illinois Volunteer Militia, where he had risen to the rank of General.

Clara was proud of her father in many ways. Mostly though, because he feared the Lord above all else. Unlike many other men Clara had heard of who beat their wives and spent all their money in taverns, her father was a hard worker and a well-respected man, both by his family and his congregation. His quiet way with words and powerful ability to make a difference in people’s lives astounded Clara.

 

Mrs. Boutwell helped Clara strip off her still-dripping dress and petticoats, and Clara stiffly eased into the claw-footed tub. Clara thought she saw a smile breach her mother’s lips as she turned on the tap, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh Clara,” Mrs. Boutwell said, placing her hands on her hips and gazing at her. “Will you ever learn to keep yourself out of scrapes?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Mother, it was an accident. Mr. McDonald bumped into me, and I couldn’t catch myself.” Clara grinned sheepishly. “I saved my books.”

Mrs. Boutwell looked wistfully at the ceiling, but she too smiled. “Sometimes I cannot believe that you are nearly seventeen. But then again, you’ve always been more concerned about books than your clothes.”

Esther knocked on the door before entering with a pot of boiling water. She slowly dumped it in the tub, and Clara closed her eyes as the hot water mixed with the lukewarm water from the tap. It made her feet and legs tingle as they thawed.

“One more pot should be perfect,” Clara said, leaning against the cool porcelain of the bathtub and trying to ignore her stinging toes.

***

Mrs. Boutwell helped Clara wash the dirt out of her long, curly hair. Clara’s hair was the annoying and frustrating, but she wouldn’t get it cut for anything. The tight, curly locks fell to her waist, shimmering like her mother’s best brown silk dress. Clara was the only one of her sisters to inherit her father’s curly, Scottish hair. She couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse. Though complicated to care for, the curls were strikingly beautiful.

Clara chuckled a bit as her mother gently worked soap into her curls and rinsed them repeatedly to remove the dirt and gunk that had attached itself after her fall. Her mother had been trying in vain for years to convince Clara to wear her hair up, as most young ladies her age did. But Clara liked wearing her hair long. She loved the feeling of the curls bumping against her back and shoulders. And besides that, wearing her hair up on top of her head was the surest way to get a dreadful headache. It was true though; had she worn her hair up today, it wouldn’t be in such a dreadful mess now.

Clara lingered in the warm water as long as she dared. Supper must be prepared, and her father would be home soon. Mrs. Boutwell left Esther to help Clara dress her hair while she began making supper.

“What was the young fellow’s name?” Esther asked, carefully squeezing the water out of Clara’s curls while Clara sat at the vanity in a fresh, dry dress.

“William McDonald.”

“How old was he?”

“I don’t know! I don’t ask questions like that.”

Esther chuckled, then gasped. “Did you say his name was William McDonald?”

“Yes, that’s what he said.” What’s so important about his name?

“Do you know what that means?”

Clara turned and looked at her sister’s vibrant face. “No, I have no idea.”

“Sir John McDonald? The prime minister of Canada?”

“What does he have to do with Mr. McDonald?”

“Father was telling me about him…Father knows young Mr. McDonald’s father. William McDonald is the nephew of Sir John McDonald! Don’t you remember him telling us about it?”

Clara shook her head, spellbound.

“Ohhhh!” Esther faked a swoon. “The nephew of the one and only Sir John McDonald, prime minister of Canada, is sparking our little Clara!”

“What?” Clara spun about and faced her sister. What a preposterous idea! “Why would he be interested in me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Esther teased.

Clara thought back to her exchange with William. Could he truly be the nephew of Sir John McDonald? He had been dressed better than most young men in the city. If he was indeed the nephew of such royalty, he would no doubt be quite wealthy…far too wealthy to be wasting his time with a poor little mouse like her.

“He’s not sparking me!” Clara protested, her brows knitting. “He bumped me into a puddle, helped me out, and then walked me home. What is so ‘sparking’ about that?”

Esther laughed as she brushed out Clara’s long curls. “You came in the house wearing his coat. He was holding your books. What else would he be thinking?”

Clara groaned. “I was wearing his coat because he didn’t give me a choice. And he was holding my books because I didn’t want to ruin them any more than they already were ruined. I think you’re taking this too far.”

“Oh Clara, Katie and Emma and I both know that you’re far prettier than the three of us put together. Young fellows have been eyeing you for years now, you just haven’t seen it. Now, they’re making themselves more obvious.”

“I’ve never seen Mr. McDonald before in my life!” Clara burst. “It’s not as if he were ‘eying me’ as you say. He was simply being a gentleman. Do stop teasing now, Esther.”

Esther said nothing, but Clara’s heart still pounded uncomfortably. Why must Esther tease her so? As if William had any motives other than helping Clara home. He felt awful about the accident, quite obviously, and simply wanted to amend his mistake. There was nothing romantic about that.

Esther finished dressing Clara’s hair and put a shawl around her shoulders, pulling the still-wet curls out over the thickly knit material.

“There. That will keep your dress dry until the curls stop dripping. I’m going to help Mother with supper.”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Clara stood and fingered her damp hair, gazing at herself in the mirror. Her mind flitted back to what William said about her age. It was true; she did look much younger than she was, and the fact that she wore her hair down didn’t help at all.

But Clara wasn’t about to give herself perpetual headache just so people, even handsome young men, would think she was older.

~~~

Did you enjoy this little sneak peek? I hope so! I can’t wait to share the book with the world!

 

Sneak Peek–The Old River Road~Pt 1

You’ve heard me talk about it. You’ve listened to my blubbering and whining about it. But you haven’t seen it yet.

Well, since the release date for The Old River Road is only 12 weeks away *PANIC*, I thought I’d give all of you lovelies a sneak peek of the first chapter.

 

Chapter 1

Clara couldn’t contain a scream when she felt herself suddenly thrown off balance. Unable to catch herself before falling, she hurled her armload of books far away from her. Cold, muddy water splashed into her face as she broke the fall with her hands. Grime squished under her fingers and coldness seeped through her skin.

“Oh my word—I am so sorry! Are you alright? Can I help you?”

The words tumbled out of an unseen stranger’s mouth almost before Clara realized she was on her hands and knees, up to her stomach mucky water. She attempted to stand up, but already her many skirts and petticoats were soaked and heavy.

Strong hands grasped Clara’s upper arms and plucked her out of the puddle as easily as if she were a pesky weed in the garden. Her knees wobbled when her feet were set on firm ground.

“Are you hurt?” the voice asked again.

Clara looked up…far up…to meet the face of a young man. His striking blue eyes were laced with embarrassment and concern.

“Ah…no.” Clara shuddered as rivers of water trickled down her front and spiraled around her legs. “I’m alright.”

“I am terribly sorry,” the man said, though it occurred to Clara that he couldn’t be much more than a boy. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Clara raised her arm and put it to her face to wipe gritty water from her cheeks. But she stopped her hand mid-air, realizing that the sleeve was even wetter than her face was. She let it fall to her side. How was she going to make it home in this condition?

“Use this, please,” the man begged. He offered a bleached muslin handkerchief, but Clara shook her head.

“I don’t want to ruin it.”  

The soft cloth swiped over her face anyway, his hand behind her head.

“There.” The man stepped back and offered a half-smile, folding the handkerchief and replacing it in his pocket.

“My…books,” Clara spluttered, pointing a soggy arm to where her books lay sprawled on the wet ground.

He sprang to where the books were, and picking each one up, he wiped the covers off on his coat before offering them to Clara. Clara reached out to take the books, but then pulled her hands back in when she realized that they were covered in mud.

“Oh—”  The man looked Clara up and down. “Can I walk you home? It’s the least I can do after—”

Clara managed a small smile and nodded. She didn’t want to ruin her precious books any more than necessary.

“Where do you live?”

“Ahh—” Clara’s mind was still spinning from the shock of the cold water. “West side of town, near the new church.” Two miles through Chicago in a soaking wet, muddy dress. Wonderful.

“Oh yes, I know where that is. My name is William, by the way. William McDonald.”

Clara felt stiff as she began walking. Her skirts clung to her legs and dripped on the ground. “I’m Clara Boutwell.”

William smiled. “I’m happy to meet you, Miss Boutwell. Though I wish it would have been in a slightly more comfortable way…”

Despite the heat burning in her cheeks, Clara couldn’t help smiling. William looked even more embarrassed than she felt.

More people, Clara’s coworkers, streamed out of the Singer building. Clara averted her eyes from their stares and carefully stepped out of the way of other ladies’ skirts. What business of theirs was it that she had taken a mud bath?

“You work for the Singer company, too?” William was saying as they began walking.

“Yes.” Clara looked up to meet William’s eyes. His face was clean-shaven and long, with a distinct chin and thin, decisive lips. He wasn’t the least bit homely. “I work in the design department.”

William flashed a smile. “I work in engineering. But these books—” William looked down to the stack he carried. “These don’t seem necessary for designing Singer sewing machines.”

Clara chuckled. “I’m studying to take the teacher’s exam.”

“Are you?” William appeared surprised. “You hardly look much more than a schoolgirl yourself.”

Clara tipped up her chin and straightened to her full five foot two inches. “I’m nearly seventeen. I finished school two years ago.”

“Seventeen?” William burst. “I aged you at thirteen or fourteen, if that.”

Clara watched as William’s face grew red.

“I mean…you’re so…small. But it’s not—” William fumbled with his words and his face turned even redder.

Clara couldn’t contain a laugh, though she hardly thought her mother would approve of her chortling in the middle of a busy Chicago street. Then again, her mother would probably die if she saw Clara walking down the street looking like a drowned rat.

“I am small,” Clara said, any awkwardness between her and William suddenly disappearing. “And yes, I am nearly seventeen.”

“How long have you been working for Singer?” William asked.

“Two years,” Clara said as they stepped off the boardwalk into the muddy streets.

“I began four years ago. It’s surprising our paths haven’t met before now.”

A cold blast of October air blew through Clara’s wet clothing and she inadvertently shivered. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest in an attempt to hold the heat in, but it did little good. She was soaked to the skin.

“Here.” William handed Clara’s books to her, and, before she could protest, he had taken off his coat and put it snugly around her shoulders. He then took the books back and tucked them under his arm.

“You don’t have to give up your coat,” Clara said, though she pulled the already-warm fabric tighter over her body.

“I don’t mind.” William smiled down at her. How nicely his blue eyes complimented his blonde hair. “Besides, I’m the one who knocked you into that puddle.”

Clara smiled and laughed a little. “My mother is going to be horrified when she sees me.”

“I’ll explain that it was entirely my fault. Will she be hard on you?”

“Mother? Oh no. She’s all bark and no bite.” Clara looked down at her muddy dress and chuckled. “And besides, I’m the youngest in my family, so they’re used to the messes I get myself in.”

“You’re the youngest?”

Clara nodded. “I have three older sisters. And they tell me that before I was born, there were two young brothers who died during the War. I wish I could have met them.” Clara stared ahead. “Having brothers would have been such fun.”

“Brothers are fun,” William said. “I have one, though he’s many years younger than me. We have a good time together.”

Clara watched as a cloud suddenly passed over William’s face, and his Adam’s apple bobbed inside his skinny neck.

“And then there’s George. He was my best friend, just two years older than me.” William took a shaky breath. “But he was killed last year, in an accident in New York.”

Clara said nothing, not knowing exactly what to say. At least Clara hadn’t known her brothers before they died. But William’s brother…they had grown up together. They had been friends. Clara shuddered. What would it be like if one of her sisters suddenly died?

“I had another older brother,” William went on, “But he died when I was too little to know him.”

Thank goodness.

They walked in silence for several minutes, Clara thinking how fortunate she was to have the only siblings she’d ever known still living.

She was unable to keep from shivering by the time they reached the Boutwell family home. Even wrapped in William’s large coat, which nearly fell to Clara’s knees, waves of cold swept over her.

Not bothering to knock, she turned the brass doorknob and stepped inside, welcoming the warm air from the fireplace in the parlor.

“Clara!” a shrill voice gasped. “Whatever happened to you?”

~~~

So what do you think? Are you as excited as I am about this release?!? Come back on Saturday for the second half of chapter 1!

March Update/Review

 

Since December, I’ve been trying to finish the first draft of The Old River Road. Unfortunately, I ran into some historical inconsistencies that needed attention before I could continue/finish the story. After bugging extended family members, friends who knew the McDonald family, and taking several trips to the library and Spokane’s history museum, I am *almost* back on track.

 

Editing is rather slow with this book. I’ve really shirked in my duties to this poor little story over the past few months. As of Sunday, that changed. Now, my goal is to edit two chapters each day. That’s about an hour of work. I can do anything for an hour, right? Right. Tell me I can.

IMG_1372

BTW, this is what NaNo does to me. I cannot remember the last time I confused two, to, and too. I’ve done it TWICE in this book.

 

Coming up in April is Camp NaNo. I was going to do another full 50,000 word project, but when I realized how far behind schedule I am with The Old River Road, that got pushed to the back burner. However, my goal is to do 25,000 words (though I’d be happy with 20,000). The project I will be working on is what I have been calling my Secret Story.

 

BUT!

 

It’s not a secret anymore because I’m going to tell you about it RIGHT NOW!!!! :-)

 

Here is the blurb (and a draft of the cover):

 

1Chelsea is the daughter of Ralph Sanders, a respected crab fisherman and the much loved captain of the vessel Cora Lee. Named after her deceased mother, Chelsea feels a connection with the boat, and with the ocean, that no one but her dad can understand. When a sudden, unexpected proposal from her maternal grandparents sends Chelsea far inland, she fights with her desire to return home…to her dad, cousins, and everything she knows. But after taking a closer look, Chelsea realizes that though her grandparents are wealthy and not wanting of any worldly goods, they have not yet let go of death of their daughter, though she died sixteen years previous. Pulling away from self-pity, Chelsea reaches out to her grandparents and help them heal despite their obvious annoyance. Will Chelsea be able to help her grandparents move on in their lives? Or will their exasperating, constant mentions of Cora drive Chelsea away?

 

Already, Ocean Hues has 26,000 words, so it shouldn’t be too hard to resume. (Starting books is always the worst part for me.)

 

Also, I purchased a new word processing program called Storyist. Apparently, one must be a techy geek to figure this program out. It’s been rather maddening, but as I’ve slowly been understanding and working through the program, I think it is going to work very well for me. One thing I love about it is the ability to keep all my random papers and notes in one document/project. Maybe, eventually *crosses fingers*  it will actually make it so that I don’t have random pieces of paper spread all over the house with random notes written on them! ;-) (Doubtful, but one can hope, right?)

Screen Shot 2016-03-14 at 11.12.27 PM

 

Something else new is this beautiful new computer monitor. It is amazing. I can now sit at my desk and work with Adobe, read onscreen, and do schoolwork on this blown-up version of my laptop. All I have to do is connect the two computers and there we go…laptop expanded. It’s awesomeness.

 

IMG_1426

 

One of my sweet, lovely siblings came into my room and STOLE my desk chair. :-(  Well…they were given permission from mom to steal it, so I guess that makes it better. Still, I’m out a comfy desk chair, and now I’ve got to find a new one that won’t fall apart when I spin around in it. After all, isn’t that the only thing desk chairs are good for?

 

I’ve read so many lovely books this month. Just to name a few, From the Dark to the Dawn by Alicia Willis, Dare and Deny by Tricia Mingerink (and oh my goodness get ready for a RAVING review on EACH of these books), The Little House Charlotte Years, Adventures and Adversities by Sarah Holman…I could go on and on. One of the best times I found to read was the 3-hours-3-times-a-week driver’s Ed class for my BABY brother.

IMG_1368Notice the hair tie? Not for hair. Perfect bookmark.

 

 

Soooo….that update was probably much more involved than you would have wished but hey…

Is anyone else participating in Camp NaNo? What have you been working on? Tell me tell me…I love getting comments! It’s like candy, finding a comment in the comment box. Come on…you’ll give me some virtual candy, right?!? *gets down on knees and begs*

130 Years Ago Today…

 

…two people, aged seventeen and twenty-four, joined hands in marriage.

 

35d70211b190a24f82b9de1beb652b0a

Pinterest

Young and naïve, neither had the slightest idea that their lives would be anything but blissful and simple. They didn’t know that he would have health struggles and nearly leave her a widow. They couldn’t have prepared for the heartache of loosing a child. They never guessed that they, raised in a large city since childhood, would be forced into the wild west, pioneering in eastern Washington state, where there could be miles between homesteads.

 

 

They didn’t know that fifty years of marriage lay ahead of them. They might not believe how many lives they touched…lives of people who they met only once or twice, yet who still remember the kindness and smiles to this day.

IMG_1314

 

They didn’t know that their great-great granddaughter would be one of those weird author-folk who loves to write everything down. They didn’t know that one day, their life story would become an honest-to-goodness, deliciously pieced together book.

 

They didn’t know that their lives would leave a legacy which would remain sound even seventy years after their deaths.

 

If you haven’t already figured it out, I’m speaking of William and Clara McDonald, my great-great grandparents. Today is their 130th wedding anniversary. (Hence the special post.)

 

a083cfba91d43a96fe878ff3a890b8fc

Pinterest

William and Clara have inspired me so much, first as a young child when I heard of their bravery moving from Chicago to little tiny Spokane, and now again as I’ve dug deeper into my family’s history and learned more about these two amazing people. When I first read their 8-page memoirs at age ten, I remember thinking, “wouldn’t it be cool if there was a book about them?” Never in my wildest imagination did I think that it would be me who would be recording their story.

 

This very special record of their lives, a book I’ve titled The Old River Road, will be shared with the world THIS YEAR. That’s right; this year, on June 13th, I’ll be throwing my great-great grandparents (not literally, mind you) out into the big scary world.

 

Are you excited to read their story?

Beautiful People Jan 2016 Linkup

I don’t typically enjoy doing linkups, but this one looked like fun. If you want to do this too, just click on the button above and follow the instructions! It’s fun!

(I don’t know why is says number 1 in front of each of these questions. It won’t let me change that. :(  )

 

  1. What were your writing achievements last year?

I spent several months editing Never Alone book 1 and came up with many ways to make the story 10 times better. (It will be going through a complete re-write later this year.)

I participated in NaNoWriMo for the very first time, and won! *squeals!*

I started 2 new novels.

  1. Tell us about your top priority writing project for this year?

My top priority this year is getting Clara’s Story published. After that, I need to finish writing and prepare the Secret Story for publishing (it will be published in 2017). That way, I can devote at least 18 solid months to Never Alone 1 to get it finished and ready to publish in late 2017 or early 2018.

  1. List 5 areas you’d like to work the hardest to improve this year.

My editing strategies. They really stink and it takes me twice as long as it should.

Writing in Deep Point of View.

Writing is First Person.

Shortening my word counts (this may or may not happen). ;)

Finding time to write amidst school.

  1. Are you participating in any writing challenges?

I’m planning on doing NaNo in April. We shall see about July…that will be my first semester in college so I might not do it.

  1. What’s your critique partner/beta reader situation like and do you have plans to expand this year?

Beta-reader wise, I am so-so. I want to expand that over the year.

  1. Do you have plans to read any writer-related books this year? Or are there specific books you want to read for research?

I need to read The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White, and I will re-read Rivet Your Readers with Deep Point of View by Jill Elizabeth Nelson.

  1. Pick one character you want to get to know better, and how are you going to achieve this?

As bizarre as this sounds, I need to get to know the main character of my trilogy, Callie Nickly, better. Yes, I’ve been working with her for the past four years, but so much of her personality is mysterious and confusing to me. I will achieve this by re-writing the first book and re-structuring the second.

  1. Do you plan to edit or query, and what’s your plan of attack?

Edit. I’m planning on indie publishing.

  1. Toni Morrison once said, “If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” What are the books that you want to see more of, and what “holes” do you think need filling in the literary world?

More appropriate contemporary fiction about real-life people with real-life problems. As much as I love reading and writing historical fiction, the ever-growing need for Godly contemporary is pressing me.

  1. What do you hope to have achieved by the end of 2016?

I hope to have Clara’s Story published, Secret Story ready for publication, and begin the re-write of Never Alone book 1. That should be enough to keep me busy for awhile. :)

 

What are your writerly goals for 2016? I want to hear them! :)

Happy New Year!

Back up a moment…perhaps I should start by saying Merry Christmas. :)

How was your Christmas? For the first time in four years, we had a white Christmas…I was SO excited!  Did anyone else get a white Christmas?

My parents gave me a sweet little Kindle Paperwhite, which I absolutely love. I’ve never had an e-reader before, other than the Kindle app on my phone, and I must say that I’m thoroughly hooked. Of course, I’ll take a hard copy any day, but if I must read an e-book, the Paperwhite is the next best thing.

Also, I got three paperback books, which I have already read. *sheepish grin* They were all A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.

IMG_1217

 

I have spent the past four days totally relaxing. Trust me, it has been divine. I lost count of how many novels I’ve read, but it was at least seven in a three day period, all of which I’ve been wanting to read for some time but haven’t had the chance to. And, thanks to my new glasses, I was able to read for hours upon hours without going cross-eyed. :)

Purposely, I put writing away for those four days. It was hard, but I’m glad I took the time off. My brain was exploding with ideas (halfway good ideas, too!) for my stories. And since I’ve allowed myself to write again, I’ve been typing up a storm!

Happy New Year! :)

Wednesday crept up on me…

Well, it’s almost ten am on Wednesday and I just realized that I forgot to post something!  Grr!

Nothing much exciting has happened around here, other than being extremely busy in preparation for Christmas. That and a few of us have gotten colds (unfortunately, I am in the lucky few). Writing has been pushed to the back burner despite my efforts to keep it a priority. I suppose it is still a priority, just…lower on the list of priorities. ;)

Clara’s Story is progressing slower than I would have liked, but it is still moving along. I’ve also been sneaking in some time on a secret story, which I am incredibly excited about. I am going to attempt to keep this story shorter than my other books, which seem to be a consistent 85,000 to 130,000 words.  We shall see how much I can control myself.

I recently got a new keyboard! Typing on my laptop on my desk was giving me horrible wrist pain, so I began looking into one of those silly-looking curved keyboards. And finally, I found one that I absolutely love! It helps my wrist pain substantially and after I got used to the funny angle of typing, I can type just as fast on the new one as I can with my laptop’s keyboard. Here’s a picture of my writing area (one of them, at least) :

IMG_1191 IMG_1189

Please excuse the messy desk. :)

I will not be posting next week because it will be Christmas Eve’s Eve, and my family will be rather busy. So merry Christmas, one week early!

One Lovely Blog Tag

I was tagged for the One Lovely Blog Award by my friend, Hope.

Rules:

  1. Link back to the blogger who nominated you.
  2. List seven fun facts about yourself.
  3. Nominate fifteen bloggers of your own…well, the rules say fifteen bloggers but that’s a lot; just tag as many people as you feel like tagging.

one-blog-lovely-award

 

Okay, seven fun facts about myself (that’s a lot!!!)

  1. I was never able to stomach coffee until about two years ago, but now, I love it.
  2. I am a night owl…staying up until two or three in the morning, no problem. Getting up before seven a.m.; “Wha de oo say?”
  3. My favorite genre to read is historical fiction.
  4. I’m not a huge fan of watching movies…if given a choice, I’d pick reading a book over watching a movie hands down.
  5. My favorite color is light, pastel purple.
  6. I play seven instruments.
  7. I write from 9pm to 12am.

I don’t know who to tag…I only know of one person reading this blog who has a blog…but if any of you wish to do this, please consider yourself tagged!

Final Week of NaNo 2015

319d3d464a35627fdbc449f0dc7c22bf

I can hardly believe it…NaNo is drawing to a close! It seems completely surreal that an entire month has gone past, yet at the same time it went by too fast. (Fellow NaNoers will know what I mean). ;).

By God’s grace and against all odds (multiple illnesses, windstorms, etc) I have been able to keep my word count where it needs to be. As of now, the most words I’ve written in one day is 4,500, and the fewest words has been 316. As arrogant as this sounds, I’m pleased with myself for keeping up and not letting the 50,000 word goal smush my productivity. :)

As of now, I have 43,000 words. This story has been so much work and far more difficult than the all-fiction novels I have written. I’ve read through a few sections that I wrote towards the beginning of the month, and was able to get through and entire chapter without wanting to vomit, so that’s a good sign, right? :) The quality of my writing definitely suffers with speed, but I think editing will be my best friend. We shall see.

And now, coming into the last 5 days of NaNo, I give myself a big slap on the back and, Lord willing, will make the 50,000 goal!

 

NaNo Day 11

NaNo is working very well for me! I’m so glad that I’ve discovered this I’ve been able to keep up with my word count, even exceeding it some days. (Yippie!) I’ve added a word count meter in the sidebar of this page so you can keep up with how I’m doing. :)

On Thursday, my right wrist got so inflamed and painful that I put my arm in a sling. Did I fall? No (shocker).  I got a pinched nerve from so much typing.IMG_8434

No one can ever say that writing is a safe occupation/hobby. It is possible to hurt yourself doing it. (And of course, I’m one who finds the only possible injury.)

Anyway…because I had to wear a stiff splint and keep the arm in a sling to save myself excruciating pain, my ability to type was—impaired, we shall say. Over two days, I got quite fluent in one-handed typing. I even played with the dictation thingy on my computer. It was quite an adventure.

It’s now six days ‘post injury’, and now I just have to wear the splint. I can still use my typing fingers even wearing it, thank goodness. The pain is much better and the swelling is almost gone. I hope it doesn’t return.

Okay, I think I just botched up pretty much every grammatical rule there is in this post alone. My brain is tired of spitting out words.  I’m not making any sense.

Thanks for reading. :)

Oh by the way, are there any little social media buttons anywhere on this post? I’m trying to get them to show up but it’s not working very well.