Thursday, October 3, 2019

Back to the Writing Desk...

... that is to say, the drawing board.

Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, we were not able to come to an agreement that everyone was happy with, so I'm back to looking for representation for Dervish Dust. However, I am not discouraged.

If anything I am excited, because the agent is still interested in seeing my fiction work when the first book is finished. That being the case, I'm going to now share some more about it.

Mermaid Summer

When Jenna Hanson moves to small town Windchime Lake, she hopes that she will finally be able to settle down for more than one school year, put down roots, and make some real friends. Her mom is excited to start a new business, and her dad hopes his new job as a biologist attached to the pulp-and-paper mill will be his redemption from a past big mistake in his career.

But almost immediately Jenna realizes there is something strange about the Lake that gives the village its name, and making new friends is not as simple as she hoped.

This is the first in a Middle Grade fantasy series.

I'm also embarking on a quest to improve my writing in general and increase my content output, so that I can submit short pieces both fiction and non, to the many markets available. My goal is to make a good living from my writing. It's that simple. So you will find some short bits and bobs on this site for a while - what might be called writing exercises.

About My Cat

I’ve not always been the best cat mom.

In fact my last cat was an indoor/outdoor cat that freely came and went, out the small window while I was out at work. He was quite the scammer, making pretty much everyone along the street believe that they were his people. I only found out when I was ready to move, and was looking for him to put in a carrier and come with me.

I met up with him coming out one of my neighbor’s houses. He had the grace to look a little guilty or at least conscious that he had been caught. The lady of that house was so stricken, so heartbroken that he might be leaving her, that I happily let her keep him.

It took 30 years for me to get another cat. This one is our joy. We keep her indoors, since we know that indoor cats live longer. If the conversation in the house ever flags, all we need to do is tell each other some cute thing that Virgo did today, like clack in throat at those pesky crows that dance on the street, and taunt her in her window. We all like to watch her sleep or roll over.

She gets the most high quality food, and I play with her. She curls up on a cat tree next to my desk as I write, then follows me to whatever room I am working in. She mews and likes it when I brush her. She yowls in hallway when she wants to play - I throw balls for her. When I’m at home alone, she acts like she’s my cat.

But she’s not.

Oh no. She’s my husband’s cat, all the way. I feed her, but she runs to him.  She sleeps at my feet, but cuddles up at his head. Her name’s Virgo, but he calls her “Cat”, so she answers to that when he calls. She presents her belly to him to be rubbed. And for a standoffish rescue cat - she has finally started sitting on laps after three years - she shows him the most affection. She talks to him at length, and seems to answer his questions. It’s lovely.

There’s no gratitude in a cat. But I have enough to cover her little share. I forgive her scratching up the sofa - that she only does when she wants attention. She likes to visit with our visitors. She sometimes calls out when she thinks she’s alone. She likes to hide in odd places and make us worry that she got out, but she never tries to go out an open door - just looks with mild curiosity. Stays.

Best cat ever.