Life is good.

It’s cold. It’s been cold enough the past two days that even Dad has succumbed to working inside. Luckily the wind isn’t blowing or it would be unbearable out. The sun is shining today and the world looks all crisp with frost edging the trees.

Okay, enough of that bullshit . :-)

Dracula is making me crazy. I’m on the last hundred pages and can’t wait to be finished with it. His eyes can only glow red so many times. It’s a decent book, a good winter read, all the dark hours, but I personally prefer The Count of Monte Cristo or Jane Eyre or Hemingway. But I’m whining. At least I have time to read the classics. I started Smashed by Koren Zailckas last night. So far so good. She is one of the few people writing about alcoholism who doesn’t whine.

Today is all about writing a synopsis and query letters. After much labor, the…what? fourth final draft of the book? is finished. It’s by far the best as yet and I’m really excited about it. I feel like I’m beating a dead horse and that means most of the work is done. I’m all ready off and running on two other projects, the sequel to Taylor #1 and another involving a character called Nina. That one is more fiction, with a touch of magical realism since the old dog and old tractor talk. Both are slow going, however, and maybe getting some queries out will help shake things up in my head. So I’m at the kitchen counter, an open cookbook beside me, covered with notes and sample text, along with notes to the synopsis and query revisions. The coffee has gone bad and Maxine keeps dropping her kong toy on the floor to watch it bounce and roll. Dad is home and the house has that warm, lived-in feel that only winter can bring. I’ve got blank pages waiting to be filled and the faintest whispers of new stories in the making.

Life is good.