I've been editing Vert Glace.  A little over 17 000 words in, I introduce a character that's since got her own runaway romance story.  Reading over (and editing, of course, sigh) the first description that I ever wrote of Sasha Suter filled me with inexplicable glee.

Every now and then when I'm procrastinating, I will write a bit more of  the third installment of Sasha's story.  It's more fleshed than the previous pieces (Birthday Present and Heart of Fin).  I decided that I would post some of it tonight as a nod to Sasha.  Of course, I immediately encountered the problem of naming the story.  I am terrible at naming stories.  I wish I had a retired author stashed away in my Potter-cupboard to name all my stories for me.  And then there was the whole ordeal of making a little graphic for it.

But now it's done!

Not sure about the update schedule.  I'll try for weekly again.  

My deadline for getting Vert Glace query ready is end of December, so that obviously comes first.  Rest assured!  Even if I don't write anything new for Price of Winning until the new year, I should be right.  :)  

Excrescence
Autochthonous
Parochial

In October, I made a leap.  A lifelong commitment.  It was the first step towards growing to care for another being.  The first step with being ok with the vulnerability that comes with responsibility.  

In October, I let Squalt into my life.  

He waits patiently for me all night long.  Never complains when I don't come in on time.  Never judges.  Low maintenance.  Doesn't even need sunlight.  Everything I could have ever wanted in an office plant.

Squalt has really thrived in the quiet, emotion ladened office.  I water him maybe once a week.  I've pruned him on the occasion.  He pushed out glossy leaf after glossy leaf until I had a burgeoning forest on my table.  And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I get this:

Have you ever flown a kite?  Or had a pokemon evolve?  It's that feeling.  I can finally say that I've accomplished something in my twenty-something years on this planet.  I can finally say that I made a difference.

Yeah, so I'm pretty chuffed.  Squalt has turned out to be a bit of a feminine plant, unless you count the awesome rod in the center of his flowers.  But there's nothing wrong with that.  Who hasn't wanted to wrap themselves in lily white softness on occasion?  


I wonder if he's going to need a bigger pot soon.

This success has given me the courage to maybe purchase another plant for my office.  Squalt and I have yet to talk it through, but I'm guessing that he might want company after the lights go off for the day.  

There's a thunderstorm building up momentum outside.  I can't wait for the humidity to break - it's been too damn hot all day.  The lights keep browning out.  I should be doing something sensible and adult-like, perhaps making my dinner before the power goes out completely.

But I'm not.  I'm starting another blog.  The old stuff is still available at the same bat time on the same bat channel.  Looking through it you might find that on this day one year ago I was.... halfway through The Tournament by Matthew Reilly.  

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I don't power off.  If I'm not working, then I'm writing.  If I'm not writing, I'm trying to get some crazy idea off the ground.  Today I took a day off work because I was spewing out of both ends the night before (don't worry, it happens all the time, and it's not from drinking, thank you very much) and this morning I got to experience first hand how it feels to be a mummified corpse.  Anyway, big mistake.  This body doesn't do well in the summer heat.  It needs to be in an air conditioned office, sipping tea, nodding, and asking people how they feel.  I tried to rest.  Didn't happen.  After eight liters of water, I started to feel slightly human again so I tried to get some writing done.  I'm usually pretty disciplined.  But not today.  Blame the heat.  Blame the dehydration.  Blame the lack of innards because they all became outards.  Whatever the reason, I ended up creating this website instead.  Please ignore the time that I wrote about procrastination.  Running my mouth is my main form of exercise. 

Instead, may I please draw your attention to the lovely writing page I set up that displays some of my completed works.  Most of them are Labyrinth challenges.  There's nothing like a competition to get me fired up to put fingers to keyboard.  That and Zombie Typocalypse.  :)

This month, Vert Glace came back into one document with 99k+ words.  Despite my detour into website making land, I did manage to work on it a little bit today.  I'm currently on page 32 of 209 and it has been whittled down to 97k+.  I don't know how other writers feel at this stage of their work, but I am absolutely hating on the story and everyone in it right now.  Correction: I hate editing the story and everyone in it.  Writing is so fun.  Editing sucks cheese balls.