My blog posts would a lot more interesting and fun if I actually led an interesting and fun life. It's hard to have much fun when you're squirreled away for a very L-O-N-G, D-A-R-K winter in Western New York. There's a lot to do around here if you don't mind getting frostbite on some appendage (skiing, skating, sledding, etc.), but us writer types tend to hole up in our garrets and write. So instead of actually living an interesting and fun life, I'm writing about somebody else's interesting and (possibly) fun life (and/or lives).
Of course, I don't actually have a garret--one of the problems of living in a one-story home, but when I get up in the morning, it's usually 59 degrees in my office (and takes approximately 6 hours for my little heater to pull it up to 70 at eye level--I have no hope of warm feet until July), and I pretend I'm Sarah Crewe as I pull my shawl (or in this case, a sweater or two) a little tighter around me and make believe it's summer in New Hampshire, where my characters are running around in short sleeves and admiring the geraniums. (How's that for one helluva run-on sentence?)
The book was just starting to really MOVE, and then came to a screeching halt as I had to put it aside for the copy edit of the last book. I hate copy edits. I never get the same copy editor twice. I don't like to make waves, so I accept a lot of the crap they toss at me. This one wants a comma after "she said, and" -- the last one didn't. But this one is also tossing in all kinds of exclamation points where they aren't needed and look how she changed one particular sentence:
My version: "I must admit, I had the same idea," Tricia said.
Her version: "I must admit, I had the same Idea, Tricia admitted.
(There's a reason authors need high-blood pressure medication during copy edits.)
Okay, end of rant for today. I'm off now ... to do something interesting and fun. Like laundry.
What are you doing today?