Nothing like having just under three thousand words in a book MS after collating notes, outlines, and jotted ideas.
And I haven’t even transcribed all the handwritten notes in my notebook yet.
(New icon for the hearthwitch book! Still not one hundred percent certain it’s the right one, but the best I’ve found so far.)
Symphony
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common — this is my symphony.
~ William Henry Channing
What I need to work on: acting frankly (I second-guess myself all the time and think myself to death), talking gently (I tend to snap when I’m irritated, although thank goodness this has decreased over the past month), and hurrying never (there is always so much to do that I rush things sometimes and make them more stressful for myself).
Maggie has taken to jumping up on my desk while I work, grabbing an object, and trying to run away with it. What are we at now, the sixteen-trillionth kittenhood?
Every time I begin a book, I am reminded of how the ideas for several more spawn from the research I do. In this case, possibly a small sub-series. Sigh. Make a note, move on.
I should eat. When it get to be past noon?
The good news: The car’s engine is running cool, and in no danger of overheating.
The bad news: It’s not warming up enough to open the thermostat, making driving a rather chilly experience. And if it’s like this now when temperatures are hovering around the zero mark, it’s only going to get worse. HRH has poked around at it and we thought it had been fixed, but apparently not. I seem to remember this issue last fall, but not what we did about it. Possibly a flush and refill; it may have fixed itself, if there was a bubble in the system.
There was thick frost on the back windshield this morning, and no scraper in the car. I have no idea where HRH packs them away in the summertime, and as the boy was already strapped into his seat I couldn’t go inside and dig around the garage looking for it. I used a (clean!) wooden paint stirrer that I found in the trunk instead. It was remarkably successful at it, too.
Hearthwitch book stuff today. And administration-type things.