Sunday, August 2, 2015

Sunday Happenings

Woke up yesterday with an annoying, nagging, little low back ache that progressed into muscle spasms by last night, making sitting or lying down anywhere rather uncomfortable.  I thought some rest last night might be beneficial- wrong! It's worse today.

I'm not one who takes these little body betrayals calmly and easily.

I have been doing a major proofreading and editing of My Magical Life to bring it even closer to what I expect it to be.  I worked on it Friday night, yesterday and most of today. It's finally done and uploaded for file review right now.  Tomorrow morning I should be able to view it online again and give the nod to have it back up and available on again before going to work- that is if I can get out of bed and accomplish this. Every time I go to get up out of a chair today it's been a battle of willpower vs. muscle spasms.  So far I haven't lost the battle, but it's not been a pleasant or comfortable day by any means. I can't bend over.  The cats are miffed about that. I can't lift and carry anything, although I dragged the laundry basket down the cellar stairs and pushed it to the laundry room, then forced myself to load the washer this morning while I was home alone. John was kind enough to finish the laundry for me- guess he didn't want me falling down the stairs while he was home.  You know how they ask you in the ER whether or not there is someone abusing you in the home, someone who might have pushed you down the stairs, perhaps? (Sweetheart, thanks for your concern, but that is what the aluminum baseball bat in the front corner of the closet is for, taking care of little domestic problems like that should they arise. Fortunately, I have never had to employ it.  And, if you're wondering, neither has he. We are not physically violent people.) I actually did fall down the cellar stairs once, not too long after we moved into the house, and they did ask me if I'd been pushed. I was home alone at the time. John had been at work. I'd called my mother and she'd come over.  John had taken me to the ER so they could x-ray my lower back to be sure I hadn't broken my tailbone. All the guys where I worked at the time wanted a gander at my plum-purple butt- um, no! I have tried to be very careful on stairs ever since.

Anyway- My Magical Life has undergone its final revision.  I think this means everything currently available on has been through the grueling process of revision and has reached what I am going to call its final edition.  The lesson learned from all this is proofread, edit, reread and then go back and do it all over again, not once, but twice.  In self-publishing, basically, your eyes are the only eyes trying to spot the mistakes. Advance readers have helped a little, especially with Medea, but that was only because I gave everyone a free copy. That didn't happen with the five books under my own name. I have limited ARCs (advance reader copies) so, at present, very few people have them in hand. Kelly has helped a little, but she's on vacation. I've been plugging away at the books, obsessing about them. I think I'm done with the five that are out there. I think I can move on to Love Me Knots. I proofread Stage Stop the other night. Have to make all the changes in the computer file next. Four more stories in that volume to overhaul.

And then maybe I can turn my attention to the Christmas volumes? John and I went to a shop in Granby, CT. While there, I snapped some pictures of Christmas-y things to get myself into the mood for this. I should hang a sleigh bell someplace to jingle and jangle to keep myself motivated!

Kelly and Bethany posted nearly 150 pictures on facebook in their albums- now we have a better comprehension of where she is and what she's doing. Bumper cars at the festival! She has always loved bumper cars! Chocolate gelato! Beautiful sunsets. Humongous pine cones. Colorful things in  the marketplace. I can't wait until she comes home so we can hear all about her trip.

For the past three days there has been a huge tag sale at my late writer friend Jim Curran's house here in town on Court Street. My sister, who also knew him, and my brother who had never met him, went to the house. Jeff picked up some Beleek china for me from Jim's dining room, his Grand Prix windbreaker from Monaco in the '60's or 70s' (he was a friend of Princess Grace's, and he had Prince Albert's red blazer from the Olympics when the Prince was on the bobsled team- Prince Albert went to Amherst College. He also had Grace Kelly's purse from High Society that he took out of his safe deposit box to show me once!), and a box of his manuscripts and personal papers that he and Lynn are going through. I was going to go, but Jim was one of my dearest writing mentors. The thought of walking into his familiar house, seeing his stuff being pawed over by antiques dealers and the general public was just too upsetting to me. I have a couple of his manuscripts in my filing cabinet to remember him by. My fondest memory will be of helping him when he did his Marilyn Monroe one act play in a funeral home in Northampton, MA. I was his sound tech that night. It was awesome. We all went out to a bar & grill on a side street in downtown Northampton afterwards. He was truly an eccentric, but brilliant man. I miss him.

And finally, a true confession...I have not written anything new since the beginning of June.  Part of the reason is I just have no time to work my real job and then come home and do all the editorial work on these books. I probably should have just done one book at a time, but I'm the sort of person who always pushes herself.  I think I pushed too much this time...the body is protesting.  I need a break, a rest...but I'm also a person who doesn't know the meaning of rest and relaxation anymore. Oh, to be four years old again! I honestly think that was the last time I had absolutely nothing to worry about, no cares in  the world. The events that shaped my world, shaped and molded me as a person, all began when I was in kindergarten. Some days it seems as if I have lived entire, yet brief, lifetimes during the course of a single lifetime, each defining event beginning a new life for me because I have had to change and adapt, sometimes start over. Maybe tat is where my ability to create comes from?

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