Witty Me Not...

I was going to write something all snarky and cute for my first post-funeral blog post... but that ain't happening. Well, I'm sure it'll have a little snark somewhere, since I have next to no filter between my brain and my mouth/fingers. But I'm not putting a lot of effort into it. Anywho, here I sit with rain pounding outside and a bunch of angry ponies milling around their stalls. Of course, if we turned the ponies out, they'd have a stroke over getting their little piddies dirty and would be screaming to get back inside immediately. Yeah, um, no Snowy River brumby-types on this farm...

All of this rain was supposed to hit us last night. Correction, oh-my-God-the-world-is-ending hail storms were supposed to kill us all in our beds last night. I slept with kevlar and a flashlight, prepared to go running out to save my Demon Chickens, should the aforementioned oh-my-God-the-world-is-ending hail storms actually make an appearance. Yeah, no. Sleepytime with the kevlar went undisturbed. Well, except for the incident in which Ari rolled off the foot of the bed and managed to hook the top of my foot with a claw in his desperate bid to avoid falling the outrageous two feet to the floor, which wasn't even a full two feet, since my laundry is, ahem, do to be done and piled up in the floor at the foot of the bed. Point is, hail was a no show. Instead, it's here today, like an unexpected visit from that annoying, gossiping aunt whom you love, but also don't really want lounging at your kitchen table, looking through your bills while you're getting cream out of the fridge, or sorting through your bathroom medicine cabinet while 'powdering her nose'. I don't mind the weather being unpredictable. I just mind weathermen promising that they're 'right on top of it Rose' while really, they have no idea what Mother Nature is up to, nor can they hint at what she might throw at you. Some day, I may actually learn my lesson and not listen to them.

On the writing front, I'm on the last two chapters of Thornbriar, I'm in the last third of Red Chief, and I've started a new WIP, as-of-yet untitled, which is a contemporary sort of Beauty and the Beast retelling. I know, I know. ANOTHER one. What can I say? I'm a sucker for any story about loving yourself for who you are, and in my versions, the Beast never gets shafted for a stuffy 'Prince Charming'...

I also have one query out. One small, lonely query. If this one gets handed an explody device, I'm officially shelving Evernow. Okay, I actually cried a little just then, seeing that written. I won't give up on her, of course, but if I'm going to beat the zombie herds in the foot race that is the route to publication, I can't have dead weight slowing me down. And a story that everyone seems to love, but no one really cares about, is a millstone around my neck. I'm spending time trying to put Evernow in a ball gown to win suitors' approval instead of plucking orphan characters off the streets of my mind and trying to give them their own lives in hopes that they'll succeed at getting crowned a success, rather than just showing up and making a scene like Evernow's done. *sighs mournfully*