What stress does to writers…

So, last night I vowed that I would beat my Victorian romance novel into submission. The last third of the book has been giving me fits because the romantic conflict was off. I couldn’t place exactly what the problem was. So yesterday I focused on only the scenes that directly contributed to the romance between the hero and heroine (leaving off the subplots and the suspense plot). That’s when I hit paydirt.

Once I wrote down each scene and whose point of view I was in, there were gaping holes. I wrote entire scenes where I gave the viewpoint of one character but not the other. :loser:

Then came the bigger challenge. It’s one thing to find the problem and quite another to FIX the problem. I found that a bar of Hershey’s Crunch chocolate helped inspire me quite nicely. I nibbled bits here and there while I sketched out filler scene ideas, places where I could reveal the other character’s growth and so on. I looked over at my bar of chocolate (and yes, it was one of those monster-sized bars of chocolate–I won it in my local chapter’s conference last weekend). Um, the chocolate was almost gone. Not good.

Bad Michelle. Bad, bad.

Did you ever do that? Look over at some munchies and find that you’d consumed the whole thing without realizing it?

I think I hear a treadmill calling my name. Sigh.

Morning dialogue

At 4:30 a.m., I heard the pitter pat of little feet. Sweet God, no.

Daughter: (whispers) Mommy, I have to go potty.

Me: Well, then, go.

Her: Come, come!

I dragged myself out of bed and helped her, then informed her that it was still nighttime.

Her: I want cereal. Cheerios.

Me: It’s time to sleep. Good night. Here, I’ll tuck you in.

Her: I want to sleep in your bed.

(Oh, heck no. Sleeping with a toddler means she pries your eyes open and smiles sweetly, saying, “Wake-up time!” Or she pats your head.)

Me: No, you sleep in your bed. Night-night.

I closed the door to her room and prayed she would stay there for at least another hour. I think the only way to guarantee it would be to give her full access to her Halloween candy. And yes, the thought did cross my mind.

Revisions are coming along, and tonight I’m watching LOST. It’s my guilty pleasure, what can I say? How about you? What are your plans for the day?

The Ring of Kerry

My husband, being the engineer that he is, created the Best Possible Strategy ™ for driving the Ring of Kerry. We would start first thing in the morning and drive clockwise, against the flow of the Evil Tour Buses. On Irish roads, you definitely want to be clear of the tour buses, because they believe that the entire road (both lanes) belongs to them.

As luck would have it, it was raining on the day we were supposed to drive the ring. It wasn’t as bad as we thought because it created a mist rising above the green hills and the sparkling water. You almost felt like you were in the middle of an Irish myth. I had to take pictures from the moving car, because my husband was bound and determined not to get caught in traffic, stuck behind a bus.

Even still, isn’t this gorgeous? Here’s a full-sized picture if you want the true effect. Some bravehearted souls actually biked along the road, risking life and limb to get a closer look at the scenery. Usually it takes about 6 hours to drive the entire Ring of Kerry, but our family drove it in 3. And we only met tour buses once, when we stopped to scarf down a meal.

Now, it wouldn’t be Ireland without sheep, would it? Suicidal sheep to be exact. We did encounter our first traffic jam here. Yes, the sheep had their own travel plans. Convoy! But eventually a farmer came along and herded them off the road.

In other news, I’ve begun the Thanksgiving shopping. My husband’s family is coming up to join us, and I hit the ever-questionable issue of how large a turkey to get. 14 pounds is too small. But 23 pounds for 10 people? Seems a bit much. Then again, leftovers are part of the fun of Thanksgiving. I compromised with 17 pounds, and hopefully that will be fine. Have you started your Thanksgiving shopping? Or am I just insane? :loser:

Kissing the Blarney Stone

Thirteen years ago, I kissed the Blarney stone for the first time. A little on the superstitious side, I didn’t want to negate the gift of the gab. Does kissing it twice mean you lose the gift? Not something I wanted to risk.

Blarney is a 15th century castle, a complete tourist trap, and it’s not in great repair. The staircases are in better shape, but of course there are no floors on any of the central levels (they were made of wood and rotted long ago). The bedchambers within the side turrets had stone floors, and aside from being a tripping hazard, those rooms were within fairly good shape. My husband leaned back and kissed the Blarney stone; then we both enjoyed the stunning views of the countryside.

Afterwards, we walked through the gardens. My favorite tree was the gnarled walnut. To me, it conjures up fairytales. Another favorite place for me was Blarney Manor. It was a Victorian mansion right in the middle of the lands, complete with horses. I swear, I can just picture this as a haunted house, can’t you?

But what made me roll my eyes was the desperate attempts to make tourist attractions out of random objects. A set of stairs to a lower garden became “Wishing Steps.” And my favorite? A large boulder that fell upon some smaller stones was called a Dolmen. Sorry, but a Dolmen has a very particular shape, almost like a pagan altar (see here). It does not look like a landslide. My husband and I joked around whenever we saw rocks after that. “Look, honey! It’s a Dolmen!” :woot:Now this is a real Dolmen.

Within walking distance of Blarney Castle is Blarney Woolen Mills, aka the Walmart of Irish sweaters. I had a marvelous time spending far too much money. And of course, when we arrived at our bed and breakfast, we discovered a coupon for 10% off. Doesn’t that just figure?

They came, they saw, they trick-or-treated

So, last night I took this photo just before we hit the streets to trick-or-treat. My little princess needed a crown and she wore the tiara I wore for Halloween 25 years ago. Funny how that works out. It went well and they enjoyed themselves, but my daughter sent a few horrified looks toward well-meaning neighbors who gave her Play-Doh instead of candy.

My favorite moment, was just before we left. I heard my son lecturing his sister: “Now don’t forget. When we see the bad guys, let me get them because I’m a Power Ranger.”

My daughter nods solemnly. My son then flexes his arms and said, “See? Because I have big, strong nipples.”