The Writing Life

It's 2:17 p.m. and I'm 3/4 of the way towards making my target of 8 pages, so I thought take a time out and add another entry since I didn't write for the past 3 days.

I still have to turn in my President's Letter tomorrow to our newsletter editor, but apart from some last minute tweaking, it's done and has been since Thursday. I've already mentally blocked out April's and May's. I've been mentally refining my latest WIP (work in progress) over the weekend, and making notes for things that I want to fix in the next draft. I'm going for a Katie Macalister feel with this book. It's a whole fish out of water scenario which I find appealing.

I'm toying with making this book part of a trilogy of books that aren't really related but they do have ghosts as a theme. I've already mentally plotted out a book set in New York, and the WIP that I abandoned that was set in New Orleans can now be retooled. I've decided that I'm now writing chick-lit romantic comedy paranormals or mysteries, which I love. Crazy I know, but it works for me.

I'm working on trying to get some extra cash so that I can spend at least 3 or 4 weeks researching this book in Cornwall. Of course since if I take a permanent job that's going to be hard since they have this pesky 2 week vacation rule, I don't know how it's going to work out, but I need that time to research the book well.

New York is of course easy since I live here, and New Orleans can take care of itself with weekend trips to the Big Easy over those long weekend breaks (although not during the summer. Having experienced NO in June and July, I'll pass on a return visit).

I'm currently reading an article on Heloise and Abelard, one of the greatest love stories of all times. Peter Abelard was Heloise's tutor, he taught at the Sorbonne back in the day where they expected tutors to be celibate. They fell madly in love, and secretly married and had a child until her uncle found out and had Abelard castrated (Ouch!). He went into a monastery and asked her to join a convent. They wrote to each other for years, as Heloise chafed at the restrictions of her new life, Peter exhorting her to give it a try. They're buried together in Pere Lachaise cemetary. (I've always wanted to write a romance where the hero and heroine hold hands and place flowers on their grave).

Their letters still survive as does their story, proving the enduring power of romance. So in honor of their love, and Valentine's Day (a day I should abhor being single yet again), I plan on savoring a split of champagne and a nice meal, raising my glass to them, and Charles and Camilla who are finally able to legalize their love after thirty years.