Sheila's Guests and Reviews

I did it, and this time I mean it too! I retyped the last sentence (ah, those final sentences--almost as important as the first), re-edited the whole manuscript, didn't rewrite any scenes (which means I really think I'm finished), edited for the dreaded and, but, still, till, however, then and was (etc), made sure my characters' eye-colors didn't change and the backpack left in one room wasn't suddenly found in another, renamed the file, re-saved it, and sent it off. Love on a Transfer is busily transferring itself from my computer to the computers at Willow Moon Publishing where I desperately hope they'll like the changes I've made. The amazing thing is, I really enjoyed the story as I reread it. That's got to be a good sign hasn't it?

It's not the real cover, of course, just the picture I had in mind while writing my novel. But I thought I'd post it to celebrate typing those magical words "The End!" Yes, it's finished, except it's not. I'm sharpening my editor's pencil now, or my finger-ends as they tap against the keys. One of my protagonist is threatening to sharpen other things and complains over my shoulder. "How dare you make me out to be a wimp," says Tom. "I'm not some shy retiring Englishman like Eric. I've got style." My feeble defense makes me the real wimp I suppose. "I just wrote what you said" But Tom complains I only ever talked to him when he was down. Which is true. He only ever noticed me when he was down. Still, I promise I'll work on fixing his scenes if he'll just let me know what to change. "Why should I?" He storms away, throwing words over his shoulder. "You're the writer. You get it ...

I read about a friend who's feeling under the weather. So sad, with the weather being so bright and summer-like at last. Of course, all that sunshine after all that rain has encouraged all those weeds. So now my yard has me working "under the weather," depriving me of time to read and write. Still, Love on a Transfer grew to 69,000 words today, and the chapters still bouncing around in my brain will surely find their way to the computer soon. (Hey, it might rain again!) Plus I've almost read two books in the last two days, so maybe I'll only be two book reviews behind schedule by the end of the week. I'll try anyway. Meanwhile, I'll rest my fingers awhile--the blisters are stinging from pulling out those weeds, leaving my hands feeling sorely under the weather.

I've started connecting part one of Love on a Transfer to part two. It's 66,000 words now, with several chapters still waiting to be written. And I like it! I guess I'm hoping lots of other people might like it too, but that's all in the future. For now, it's nice to see it coming together and feel like it's going to work. I shall switch off my computer in a moment and go wander around the green, talk to Tom who's going to tell me how he felt when Ellen went back to England with Eric, and how feeling so guilty about his behavior changed his character. Poor Tom. Even non-perfectionists get hooked up on wishing they were perfect once in a while. This isn't the cover, but it's the picture I carry around in my mind. Love on a Transfer--Cambridge to Salt Lake City and back, with thanks to Willow Moon Publishing!

That heading should be 16,000 words and writing, but housework calls, yardwork's soggy, and the cupboard's getting awfully bare. I checked the bottom of my page in Word and it's counted to 16,000, which sounds pretty good. Tom has finally realized what day it is--ah, the trouble with jet lag--and now he's planning how to get to his friend's house in time for the wedding. Anne has at least become a voice on the telephone instead of just an email address. And love awaits... Love on a Transfer, ion fact. Part II keeps moving along.