Responsible Writing

I may have mentioned this a time or forty, but lately I've been working on rewrites/expansions (with the goal of having my second draft done by July).  In fact that's what I'm about to settle in and work on after I finish this blog entry (I've been informed by more than one person that they miss my daily updates- I've made a promise to try and be more consistent).  Anyway, as part of the whole "rewrite" process, I'm working from feedback given to me by my beloved Alpha readers, and one of them mentioned that I'd failed to mention any sort of birth control, even tho' I imply that Sexy Times are occurring.  Seeing as how I am a Big Fan of representing responsible intercourse (I could have kissed Pat Rothfuss for his portrayal of a male taking responsibility in The Wise Man's Fear), I gave it some thought and figured out how to work in a bit of contraception.  I did actually wrestle with whether to go for the tried-and-true-fantasy-trope of hebs, or be bold and go for a barrier method, but since my story is set in a time that more or less equates (technologically) to 18th century western Europe (yes yes, I know- chemical-soaked linens and the like... and yet), I decided to stick with herbs.  And made the executive decision that there are no STDs (or are they STIs these days?) in this universe- or, if there are, that the herbs protect against them, too.  Not that I mention that aspect in the book... but just so you know for yourselves.  (There are certain perks to inventing world whole-cloth, and I intend to take advantage of them.)

My point being, here is the scene I added in an attempt to be a (slightly more) responsible author...

***

“Hold up a moment, will you?  I need to dash into the apothecary’s real quick.”

Sera halted Gert and gave Layclin a puzzled look.  “Why?  Are you sick?”

“Not if I can help it,” snorted the other girl, and dashed into the shop.  Sera scowled and hunched up closer to Gert’s warm flank.  The rain was bordering on snow, and even a short delay from getting back to the studio was irritating- never mind the trouble they’d be in if Himself heard about them using shop time for personal errands.  A few moments later Layclin returned, tucking a small packet into her pocket.

“What’s that?” Sera asked as they started walking again.

“Just some maiden’s root.  I was getting low.”

“Maiden’s root?”

“Good grief, girl- I can’t tell if you’re more scandalized or fascinated.  Don’t tell me you don’t have your own supply, little miss man-crazy.”

“Of course not!  We’re not allowed to be… doing things… like that.”

“Doing things like preventing babes?”

“Doing things that lead to the need to prevent babes!” Sera snapped.

Layclin rolled her eyes.  “Oh please.   Technically the rule that we’re not to fraternize with our fellow apprentices- which I’m not, thank you very much.  Nobody ever said anything about what we should or shouldn’t be doing with journeymen fishers.”  She winked at Sera, but then grew sober.  “You really ought to have your own supply, Sera.  I’ve seen the way Riamac looks at you when he thinks no one else is looking.”

“I think that maiden’s root is making you hallucinate,” Sera muttered, but her face was burning.

***

...aaaaand then later I make mention of Sera making a trip to the apothecary and ta da!  No babies.

And now?  Back to work.  I have to rework bit of scenery, now.  Wheee!

PS Thought I might mention that three separate people have walked into my living room and commented on the "red wall", so possibly I'm not as bad a wife as I'd feared.

Promise Breaker

We've been feathering the ol' nest over the past month (and will continue to do so in the coming months, I'm sure) and this past week I finally got around to painting the "accent wall" in the living room (which needed to be done before we could hang my surfboard, to free up the hallway so I can hang more photos, etc etc).  Now, Nathan has pretty much given me free reign regarding decorating the apartment (he insists he has no eye for that sort of thing, which I think is a lie but if it's a lie that comforts his Manliness then I'll go along with it), and when I selected a red couch-cover I was exceptionally jazzed to paint one wall a complimentary red.  Red wall!  The rapture!  When Nathan expressed concern that it might be too dark (for some reason apartments in the PNW simply do not believe in overhead lighting for living areas), I assured him that I'd go with a lighter shade of red.

"You mean pink," he said, sounding appalled.

"No no, not pink.  Lighter red!"

"Light red is pink.  Do not paint the wall pink.  I do not want a pink wall."

"I'm not going to paint the wall pink!" I insisted.  "You'll see- it will be great!"

We went to the store and picked up paint samples, and I got a variety, and lay them out across the afore-mentioned red couch for Nathan to veto.  "I really don't care," he said after giving them a glance.  "You pick."

So pick I did, and I picked Strawberry Daquiri, a nice, vivid shade that I was positive would be more red than pink once it was up on the wall.  I spent a few hours slathering it over the hideous khaki, then stepped back to admire the effect.  Which was, as intended, quite vivid.

I'll give Nathan this- he kept a straight face as I kept repeating, in a hopeful voice, "See how red it looks in this light?  Definitely red."

"Uh huh," he said, still with the manfully straight face.

But gentle readers, that wall is magenta.  It is a straight-up magenta wall, and I have it on pretty good authority that magenta, although technically defined as "purplish red" is, in fact, somewhat pink.

::sigh::

Oh well.  It still looks awesome, and the comics nerd in me can't help but be pleased at punch by it's addition to my cyan bathroom and yellow hallway...

In other productive news, I added about two-thousand words to the novel today, after culling about 600.  I'm meeting up with one of my alpha-readers this weekend to discuss his thoughts (although first he'll need to be caught up on all the changes I've made since I originally sent him the barely fleshed bones).  I've sort of be alternating days between art and writing... here's hoping I will eventually find the balance.  It would help, I'm sure, if I didn't work 40 hours a week elsewhere... but hey, mouths and feeding and all that, right?  Right.

And now to bed- well, to read, anyway.

Dodging Oz

As some of you are probably aware, Alabama got hit by some pretty serious tornado action this afternoon- especially downtown Birmingham, where we used to live.  There was about half an hour there where Nathan and I were waiting a bit pins-and-needle-ishly to hear from our family- and I, being the person who handles stress the way that I do, told everyone to go ahead and let me know if they got swept off to Oz, because we'd send out a rescue party with flying monkeys and everything.

Last we heard everyone was fine, which means that I am now allowed to let myself feel sick and freaked out.  I like to save this sort of thing for after the crisis, you understand- once there's actually time to indulge in weakness.  But for the past few hours while I was busy being "Meh, I'm sure everything's fine," I channeled my energies into this:

Guess who discovered how frickin' easy it is to create a pattern?

It actually sprang from this doodle in my sketchbook:

Is my underdrawing showing?

which I did while Nathan and I were watching  Scrubs after dinner.  I'd originally planned to do some rewriting, but my brain was not in the right zone.  But hey- if you can't be disciplined one way, be disciplined in another, right?  Right.

Speaking of which, I'm about to cut waaaay back on the refined sugar.  Just as soon as we finish off the last of the cupcakes...

This Is the Sound of a Contented Back

First of all, this:

No decoration up in the studio yet- weird to work surrounded by stark walls...

When I got home from work today, I found that the the Easter Husband had delivered unto me this wonderful (cat-hair-free) chair.  Happy happy happy.


To make certain the chair would live up to it's pleathey promises, I sat down and churned out another digital doodle (working with flat colors, this time):

And the back is feeling fine...

I Need a New Chair

I am bitter, gentle readers.  Bitter, bitter, bitter.


Why so bitter, you might ask?  Because when we moved I was strong-armed into giving up My Chair.  My wonderful office chair that just so happened to be more cat fur than chair- but still!  I loved that chair!  And tonight, gentle readers, I miss it more than ever.  Because tonight I finally got all the technical aspects of my studio set up (computer, netbook, scanner, cintiq, full-spectrum lamp), which means I sat down to start re-acquainting myself with the arcane process of producing art digitally- and I've just spent the past two hours sitting on a broken down old stool (the stool that came with my child-sized drafting table, I might add) and my back is making itself known.

So I'm thinking "new chair" goes to the top of our apartment-need-list.  Screw towel racks, anyway...

But here- enjoy the fruits of my pained laboring:

Alianne of Pirate's Swoop, on the event of her first encounter with Kyprioth

Now that I'm looking at it on a smaller scale, I'm realizing I could/should have gone way more spectacular with the broken nose/black eye.  Ah well...  everything is a process...

Procrastination- Not Just for Homework Anymore!

Rewrites are a wonderful thing, because they give you a chance to go in and flesh out characters that only got a passing glance in the rough draft- and to invent entirely new characters as needed.:

And then, as a way to procrastinate, you take the time to doodle these fourth and fifth tier characters...

Speaking of procrastination, all the non-carpeted floors in my house now smell like peppermint.  Why?  Because I scrubbed them all down with diluted peppermint extract in the hopes that it will keep the frigging ants away.  I have no idea where the little bastards are coming from, but I will figure out a way to kill them all (hopefully without poisoning the cats...)  Once upon a time I'd have been more lackadaisical about it, but that was before I was married to a man for whom ants can quite literally equal death.  So if you guys have any ant-slaughtering advice, feel free to chime in...

(Side note- this experience is making me hate carpet even more, because for all I know there are thousands of the little suckers marching back and forth beneath the gently wafting fronds of shag, and I would never know...)

Today's other adventures included hiking in Forest Park (short but sweet), hanging the guitars in the studio (plus a few other pieces of art), and selling a distortion peddle (ie, transforming it into a new photography equipment).  All in all, a pretty good day- and I still have another day off to go.

Other People's Kids (That Don't Suck)

Once upon a time, Nathan and I got married- and when we did we hired some truly fabulous wedding photographers: Sam and Cory Ferguson.  The best part of this arrangement (aside from our excellent wedding photos, of course) was that we actually became friends with them.  We're far apart now, but I still keep up with their blog- and as I was catching up on everything I missed during the move I came across an utterly charming photo of their daughter in footie pajamas and fairy wings (and a tutu, because that's what goes best with said ensemble).  I liked it so much that I had to doodle it:

Is she, or is she not just the perfect little girl in this?