Monthly Archives: October 2006

ESTC Update — Three-Quarters Done

Total word count, ESTC: 37,432
Total words today: 2,080

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
37,432 / 50,000
(74.9%)

I have warning sirens and flashing lights going off in my brain, and a little subtitle that says Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear following me around. I have got to do something about Ye Chaptere of Sociologikal Contexte, also yclept Chapter 2, which requires a whack of reading and research to back up my statements. It’s going to be around five thousand words, as are most of the other chapters. Then that leaves me another 5K to polish and expand things.

And then we’ll be at the what can I cut out to give me more room stage, also known as the goodnight words I’ll most likely kill some of you in the morning phase.

Three weeks. Three weeks.

*sigh*

So since I’ve publicly declared that I’m not formally doing the NaNo thing this year, I now have the glimmerings of an idea for a new novel. Naturally.

However, writing a historical from the POV of one of George III’s young daughters means that I’d have to research the period, porphyria, and cross-Atlantic politics. Which in turn means, of course, that it can’t possibly be done in a month. And that’s that.

ESTC Update

Liam’s with his caregiver today, and will be on Tuesdays for the next couple of weeks while I handle both writing this book and editing another MS. I’m grateful that she can take him the extra day, because after losing last Friday to the holiday-that-wasn’t-restful and yesterday to crap, I really needed a good solid successful day of writing.

Total word count, ESTC: 35,352
Total words today: 1,282

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
35,352 / 50,000
(70.7%)

Seventy percent complete. Yet again I waver between rejoicing and panicking. And yes, I’m already past this week’s scheduled total.

Today was about expanding notes on goddesses into real sentences and coherent paragraphs. I did 820 words last Wednesday that I forgot to record, too. HRH just called and says he’s picking Liam up, because he’s been working only ten minutes away today, so I think I’ll use the bonus hour to plan out what I’ll do tomorrow (elemental meditations, I think).

NaNo 2006 Musings

So last year, I simultaneously had a baby, a book to proof, and a book to finish writing for publication. (Which was not, of course, the plan, as regular readers know.) In defense of sanity, I regretfully declined to participate in the YUL 2005 NaNoWriMo challenge. And since then, I’ve kind of been assuming that of course I’d do it again in 2006. After all, I was previously a winner three years running, finishing on November 20 in two of those years.

At the beginning of this past September, I decided not to do NaNo again. It would just be too much. After all, I had one contracted book, another proposal in with the publisher, and was in negotiation to assume overseeing a series.

Then that proposal, what would have been my next project, was shelved for at least the rest of the year.

ESTC is due Nov 1. And for once, it’s not being rushed into production.

So around the second week of September I thought, well, I might be able to do it, you know?

And then the next morning I gave myself a good smack and said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to write WITH NO DEADLINE for once?”

NaNo did nice things for me in teaching me how I work. It taught me quotas, it taught me cycles, and rhythms. NaNo is fun, for the team aspect, for the satisfaction of watching my numbers climb, for the thrill and smug feeling of passing others and giving them a goal to chase, of finishing if not first then damn close to first among the city. It’s been very gratifying to know I can produce 50K of good fiction in 20 days. But I know now that I can write a full 80K non-fic book for publication in sixty-odd days. And it ends up being a good book, too.

So the nostalgia of it all attracts me.

But being realistic? The thought of physically forcing myself to write for NaNo isn’t fun, because I force myself to write to a deadline as a daily job. I don’t need that kind of shooting myself in the head. I can’t run the risk of making myself hate writing altogether; this is my bread and butter. No thanks.

I think I’m looking forward to November being a month of relaxing writing, for once.

But I reserve the right to change my mind, of course.

A Done Deal

Eight comments, with no spam-related words that I could see, were waiting to be moderated today. All of them were from friends encouraging me to go buy the red shoes, for sound reasons. I approved them all, even Phnee’s three repeats, because they are supportive and positive and cheerful.

So here you are, gang:

Voila. I am red shoe’d. And I will wear them to write today.

The Red Shoes

I have washed not only the kitchen floor, but all the hardwood as well. I have brought my office carpet up from where it was in summer storage and scrubbed it clean.

I’ve done editing, some on my MS, some on the one I’m reading for the publisher.

I am too awake.

So I will tell you about the find I thought impossible.

This season, I decided that I wanted red shoes. Red leather shoes, preferably with a small yet sensible heel, and a strap. Why? I have no earthly idea why. I just realised one day that I wanted red shoes. I think it stemmed from a desire to wear something concrete that reminded me that life was fun. I don’t really understand the connection, because I find red a very difficult colour for me. It has to be a very specific kind of red, with lots of blue tone to it, and not too bright.

I only mentioned this odd desire to one or two people, because really, red shoes? How impractical is that? And remarkably unlike me.

I hate shoe shopping, by the way; it’s right up there with bra shopping. I have long narrow Cinderella feet and buying shoes is a pain because so few styles actually fit, and I’m picky about heels. My toes usually feel crammed into the end of most shoes. Also, my heel slips out of most pairs unless there’s a strap. My right foot is an entire half-size larger than my left. Shoe shopping is so traumatic that I don’t go into footwear stores unless I have to. Since this odd notion struck I’ve been engaging in odd behaviour for me: I’ve been glancing into shoe shops as I walk by. Red leather stands out. (Most of it seems to be patent — shudder! — this fall, from what I’ve seen.) Red shoes are easy to spot amongst the brown and black, so I can see them very quickly and usually discard them as possibilities right away. Too wedge, too platform, too patent (ugh), too bright, too chunky, too high a heel, too flat, etcetera, etcetera.

Except today, when I was walking through the mall, having stopped to look for plain shirts for Liam. Today out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a lovely little shoe deep inside a shop, and actually went in to take a closer look for the first time this season. The shoe was a deep blue-red suede, closer to a claret colour, almost a ballerina flat with a wisp of a heel, and a tiny strap close to the curve of the vamp. It was lovely.

But it had two strikes against it: it was suede (I have two pairs of suede loafers that I never wear because if they get wet they’re pretty much ruined and I like my shoes to be a bit more practical than that, especially in this climate), and the price (they were over one hundred and twenty dollars). Expensive, impractical: not even worth trying on.

As I turned to go, I caught sight of another red shoe. It was soft leather, still blue-red but lighter in tone, with a calm gentle curve of bone-coloured decorative stitching along the edge and over the toe. It had a higher heel, with the strap slightly further from the curve of the vamp. They were almost exactly what I had (admittedly vaguely) envisioned.

I picked it up and played with it a bit. The leather was very soft, but sturdy; it had a good sole; the price didn’t make me want to pass out. And I eventually thought Heck, why not, it can’t hurt to try, and asked to try it on. The size I usually take was a bit loose; the size lower was a just-fit. (They’re made narrow and long. Imagine that.) They were comfortable when I walked around. They made me smile shyly when I looked down at them.

I thought about it as I walked back and forth, and then I took them off. They cost one hundred dollars. They are red shoes. How often would I wear them?

I asked for the shop’s card, and the model number, and said I’d think about it. And I’ve been thinking all day. Off and on it’s been How often would I wear them? and Hundred dollar shoes! and They are exactly what I imagined. I didn’t think I’d ever find them, so I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if I met them. The likelihood was so slim, after all.

At dinner, when I said, “They’re red shoes, how often would I wear them?”, HRH replied, “As often as you wanted.” Which is a very sensible answer. And my feet don’t grow any more; they’d last me a long time. They’re made by a good, reliable, well-made company.

And I just found fifty dollars’ worth of gift certificates in my purse that I’d forgotten I had, part of my last birthday present from my in-laws.

I hate shoe shopping. I so rarely find shoes that fit properly.

I think I’m coming home with this pair tomorrow. And I will wear them whenever I please.