For months I've been struggling with an ailment that I first thought to be arthritis. I am one of America's uninsured and I find it ridiculous to pay upwards of a hundred (with ex-rays, because you know they will take at least one) dollars for a visit for a hurt finger.
Anyway, it's the ring finger of my right hand and it started to lock. I would bend it and it would get stuck cricked over and I would have to straighten it with my other hand. It was annoying but not overly painful until recently.
When the pain got to be too much I went online to look up my symptoms. The real name is called Stenosing Tenosynovitis. The tendon or tendon sheath becomes inflamed and swells, this causes the locking and snapping effect. Lucky for me, to fix it I just need to immobilize that finger and take ibuprofen. After six weeks the literature says the tendon will heal and I will be able to use it again.
And so my writing will progress even slower now that my finger is taped between two popsicle sticks. Slow, but hopefully still steady.
Upside is the kids are doing dishes. :)
*sigh* I think I heard a crash
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
MP3 Players
Just wanted to take a second and express my love for this gadget. The ability to shuffle is what I always wanted to do with my cassette tapes on my old walkman. If used right you have a personal soundtrack.
I'm walking on sunshine!
I'm walking on sunshine!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Heroes
When writing romance novels, one of the things you learn early on is the reader has to fall in love with the hero. That's what keeps them reading.
When I read romance I see my husband in every hero. He may not be a quadrillionaire, but I see my husband in Rorke (the hero of Nora Roberts's In Death series). I see my husband in Joe Morelli (the main love interest of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series). And so on.
These wonderful storytellers seem to capture everything sexy and satisfying I see in my husband... hum, I guess I picked a good one.
When I wrote my first novel, Creatures of the Moon (yet to be published) the character Ryan reflected aspects of my husband. I realized this on the third reread and wondered if my next hero should as well. In some ways it feels like cheating. Here I have the sexiest man alive (No not anyone famous) as my husband and I'm using him as character fodder.
So my current project is not based on him. I've tried something else and I'm wondering if I may have made a mistake. That's not to say my new male isn't sexy, he's just more reserved, not as much of a player, doesn't just take what he wants... yet. He will have to step up and be an alpha male when it counts, but for the most part he's not completely sure of himself. The concept could be refreshing or it could bomb entirely.
So, I'm asking you...If anyone out there is reading this. :) Does a romantic hero have to be a Rorke or Morelli, or can he be quiet and reserved until his alpha moment, then retreat back until he's needed again? Hum, I guess it would be more a Clark Kent / Superman thing. Could a woman love Clark Kent?
When I read romance I see my husband in every hero. He may not be a quadrillionaire, but I see my husband in Rorke (the hero of Nora Roberts's In Death series). I see my husband in Joe Morelli (the main love interest of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series). And so on.
These wonderful storytellers seem to capture everything sexy and satisfying I see in my husband... hum, I guess I picked a good one.
When I wrote my first novel, Creatures of the Moon (yet to be published) the character Ryan reflected aspects of my husband. I realized this on the third reread and wondered if my next hero should as well. In some ways it feels like cheating. Here I have the sexiest man alive (No not anyone famous) as my husband and I'm using him as character fodder.
So my current project is not based on him. I've tried something else and I'm wondering if I may have made a mistake. That's not to say my new male isn't sexy, he's just more reserved, not as much of a player, doesn't just take what he wants... yet. He will have to step up and be an alpha male when it counts, but for the most part he's not completely sure of himself. The concept could be refreshing or it could bomb entirely.
So, I'm asking you...If anyone out there is reading this. :) Does a romantic hero have to be a Rorke or Morelli, or can he be quiet and reserved until his alpha moment, then retreat back until he's needed again? Hum, I guess it would be more a Clark Kent / Superman thing. Could a woman love Clark Kent?
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I have been working on the same chapter, the same scene for the past week. Until two days ago, I didn't know why. My head was foggy. My energy low. I felt week, and try as I might I couldn't have strung two words together with superglue and twine.
My non-writing, 8-5 job I do from my office at home. A cozy room in our finished, walkout, basement. I've been slower than usual in that job too. Coffee and short walks outside would get me going enough to get through the day, but concentrating took effort.
Saturday night my daughter felt ill. She sat downstairs in the family room playing video games with her older brother. Her face was flushed and her head hurt. I took her upstairs, away from our coal stove, because it sits in the family room and it was cranking out heat. I thought she may have been overheated.
After a few hours, after the kids were in bed I started to feel ill too. Was I coming down with the same thing my daughter had? Yes, actually, but I didn't know it then. I stepped out the door to stand in the frigid air and after a few moments I felt better.
When I walked back in the house, I smelled something. Coal gas. The same scent I smelled when I emptied the ash pan. I checked the doors on the stove, every connection, every crevice. I couldn't smell it again, but I knew something wasn't right with the stove. I opened the door to let the fresh air in. In a few minutes I closed the door and went to bed, but not before moving the carbon monoxide detector closer to the stove.
In four hours it went off. The house was filling with carbon monoxide. As it turns out there is something called fly ash (the consistency of baby powder) that builds up in stoves. We didn't realize we should shut the stove down and clean it in the middle of the season. That ignorance could have cost us our lives.
My husband and I shut down and cleaned the stove. Removing the pipe that connected it to the chimney, we found the vertical pipe clogged with this fly ash. We owe our lives to that little twenty dollar box. I'll admit when I bought it I thought I may be wasting money. I know better now.
We are all fine. Healthy, and happy. I didn't realize how foggy my mind was until it cleared. I look forward to getting back to work on my book.
My non-writing, 8-5 job I do from my office at home. A cozy room in our finished, walkout, basement. I've been slower than usual in that job too. Coffee and short walks outside would get me going enough to get through the day, but concentrating took effort.
Saturday night my daughter felt ill. She sat downstairs in the family room playing video games with her older brother. Her face was flushed and her head hurt. I took her upstairs, away from our coal stove, because it sits in the family room and it was cranking out heat. I thought she may have been overheated.
After a few hours, after the kids were in bed I started to feel ill too. Was I coming down with the same thing my daughter had? Yes, actually, but I didn't know it then. I stepped out the door to stand in the frigid air and after a few moments I felt better.
When I walked back in the house, I smelled something. Coal gas. The same scent I smelled when I emptied the ash pan. I checked the doors on the stove, every connection, every crevice. I couldn't smell it again, but I knew something wasn't right with the stove. I opened the door to let the fresh air in. In a few minutes I closed the door and went to bed, but not before moving the carbon monoxide detector closer to the stove.
In four hours it went off. The house was filling with carbon monoxide. As it turns out there is something called fly ash (the consistency of baby powder) that builds up in stoves. We didn't realize we should shut the stove down and clean it in the middle of the season. That ignorance could have cost us our lives.
My husband and I shut down and cleaned the stove. Removing the pipe that connected it to the chimney, we found the vertical pipe clogged with this fly ash. We owe our lives to that little twenty dollar box. I'll admit when I bought it I thought I may be wasting money. I know better now.
We are all fine. Healthy, and happy. I didn't realize how foggy my mind was until it cleared. I look forward to getting back to work on my book.
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