I'm in one of those crazy-busy-unsettled periods. I'm promoting my July release--The Fall of Rome, starting a new manuscript--Out of the Ordinary, and awaiting revisions on Evie Ever After. I've also been asked to come up with a proposal for the book that would follow Out of the Ordinary. Oh, and my agent would like to talk about two other projects I've had on the back burner. It's all good. Exciting, even. But my mind is musing and zinging in several different directions. The end result is a kid with ants in her pants. I keep hopping from one thing to another, unable to focus on any one thing long enough to make substantial progress.
The madness must stop.
This past weekend I gave myself permission to play. Friday night I went to see Stevie Nicks in concert. Lucky me, it was a smallish venue and I sat in the fifteenth row, center stage. Unlucky me, every time she launched into one of her hits everyone stood and the two guys in front of me were at least 6'4". I'm 5'2". Grrrr. How does standing make the music sound better? I don't get it. In those instances, I couldn't see squat. Regardless, I had a great time. Stevie was fabulous, magical. The band was awesome. I got to see a rock icon of my youth. In recent years I've also seen Pat Benatar and Cyndi Lauper--two other longtime faves. Now if I could only see Journey WITH Steve Perry. One can dream.
On Saturday we drove up to Long Island to see Steve's parents and his brother and his fiance. We so rarely get the chance/time to visit. It was wonderful, as always, to see them and--bonus--there was a family picnic on Sunday so we got to see tons of beloved cousins and uncles and aunts who we hardly ever see. We chatted and laughed-a lot. Steve played Bocce Ball. I participated in the 'egg toss'--my first. My partner and I didn't win, but we last pretty long and at least I never dropped the egg, although it did break when I caught it on our eliminating toss. According to Steve, I don't quite have my cradle and follow-through technique down. Something to keep in mind if I ever find myself in another egg toss contest although I can't imagine where/when that would be. We also participated in a scavenger hunt with a twist. Our team didn't win but I swear we should have. We were creative and awesome, if I do say so myself. Oh, and there was LOTS of food. Enough to feed a small nation. Sticking to my Weight Watchers plan was a challenge. Thank goodness I had a lot of banked points.
Last night, while watching the new version of the game show PASSWORD with my in-laws and brother and almost sister-in-law, I felt that click. The click that told me I was ready to get down to business. I knew that when I returned home, I'd be in the mindset to prioritize and organize and tackle all of my projects. Apparently a play weekend was exactly what I needed to kick-start my work schedule!
I'm home now and, yup, I'm ready. I'm done musing and pondering and ready to fly into the mist. Which means I probably won't be scribbling in you daily for awhile Dear Diary. Although I'll keep jotting down my goal list. Amazing how writing it down helps to keep me on track and motivated.
Back to PASSWORD, I'd forgotten how much I love that game. I couldn't help shouting out clues and they were good ones! Although no doubt I'd choke if I was actually on the show.
WRITING: Jotted background notes for OOTO and its sequel
RECREATION: A concert and a weekend with family
EXERCISE: I squeezed in a walk around the neighborhood and ran around like a loon for the scavenger hunt, but other than that--zip. Bleh.
DIET: Uh... Over the weekend, I didn't count points like I should have, but I did watch my portions. Back on track today.
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "If the artist does not fling himself, without reflecting, into his work, as Curtis flung himself into the yawning gulf, as the soldier flings himself into the enemy's trenches, and if, once in this crater, he does not work like a miner on whom the walls of his gallery have fallen in; if he contemplates difficulties instead of overcoming them one by one...he is simply looking on at the suicide of his own talent." - Honore de Balzac