An Airing Out

As I prepare (i.e. look forward to giddily) for the end of my unplanned sabbatical from writing, I am attempting to view this break from my literary career in the most favorable light possible.

*takes a deep, preparatory breath… that crumbles quite pitifully into a frail hiccup-y cough*

Well, that’s the plan anyway. Let’s have a go at this positive crap, shall we?

Late last night in the middle of another sleepless night (no writing = bad Chloe brain), I decided to look at my sabbatical (unplanned, have I mentioned that?) like an airing out of an old house.

Windows and doors open with nobody about, all the accumulated dust and needless clutter of The Hushing Days manuscript has been gently removed by the warm spring wind. With no work being done amid its hallways, no mad carpenters, pesky third-person omniscients or Lisabels or Rosabels running amuck in its rooms, the novel-to-be has had a chance to just breathe and be.

Ah, how refreshing!

Invigorating!

Healing!

How freaking merry.

Well, that’s all over tomorrow. The dog and my bags are packed and we’re moving back in. Ready or not, here Chloe and the muse come!

Until Monday (travel day on Sunday)…

Chloe

Prepare the Poor Fish

Assuming for a moment that the literary world is an actual terra firma place with rivers and valleys and whatnot, I would like to take this opportunity to issue a warning to the authorian lands.

Chloe is back!

Please prepare your carefully manicured flowerbeds to be tromped on by big, ungainly feet.

Please post advisories on the shores of your Mainstream. Clumsy, gangly, but terribly well-meaning Ms. Stowe will be splashing yet again in your calm waters. Fish may be injured.

Please alert your purveyors of weather that a tiny, ragged cloud of panic and self-doubt may indeed litter your cornflower blue skies this afternoon. No need to run and hide; cowering in a spot of brilliant sunshine will do.

All silliness aside, I do plan to start back on the Six Brothers today.

As it stands at this moment, Leo still lives. Most likely the fate of the youngest sibling will not be determined for several days yet.

Perhaps my little forced sabbatical for Thanksgiving madness will have provided the much needed kick-in-the-butt to get things truly rolling? If so, Leo will survive. I like my gunsmith and his significant other. It would be a terrible shame to lose them to Author Ineptness.

So, please, wish me and the literary world well as we again collide. (And keep an especially good thought for the poor fish.)

Until tomorrow…

Chloe