The good, the bad, and the updates
But not necessarily in that order.
CrazyHorse is sick again. We had him on singulair and we thought it was working great - but he's still wheezing. So, the doctor added in Flovent. I won't know for another week and a half if that's doing anything. But now, he's coughing again. And that is a scary thing for us now. Already got the go ahead to give him cough syrup to help with the symptoms but the symptoms are only a part of it. If it's just a cold, that will be awesome but there's this little wee voice that keeps reminding me that we thought the first bout of pneumonia was 'just a cold'. It's not hard to get that mixed up as, apparently CrazyHorse doesn't present with a fever. Ever. Wolverine has added not eating to his growing list of things to do to ensure mama ends up a quivering mass of worry at the end of every day. Between that and the scratching and the refusing to sleep in a real bed - I'm just at my wits end. We won't discuss the dogs.
I'm making progress on both of my current projects - and not getting anything done on anything else. But, I'm up to chapter six of Purgatory's Queen and chapter sixteen of Thosha-Tol and I think both of them are coming along nicely.
Now, for my favorite part of this post.
I know I'm a fortunate woman. I have a great dad. He's the best beta reader I've got. Scoff all you want but the man doesn't mince words, doesn't pat me on the head and tell me I'm wonderful. I'd hate that. He has no trouble reading a chapter and pointing out the inconsistencies, things that don't make logical sense, and he's awesome with bits of factual information that no one else would know - like the shortened versions of Russian names or where a certain act would have tripped a breaker and not caused a shower of sparks. Maybe it's less visually fun that way but it's more realistic. I'm fortunate to have a reader like that - he doesn't mince words because he wants me to succeed. He has always laid this foundation for me. Made me learn to work hard for the little things so when I started taking on the big things, it wasn't such a shock. It's kind of funny that he'd call me up this evening, wanting to make sure I'm taking his comments the way they are intended - as constructive, helpful critisisms and nothing more. What makes this funny is that I very nearly sent him an email today to remind me of a couple of conversations had in the last few days with various other writers who really weren't looking for opinions but for ooos and ahhs. So that if I ever got defensive and persnickety with his helping me, I could remember that I'm sending him PQ, not for praise (though the occasional pointing out of things I'm doing well is really nice), but for a second pair of eyes to catch where I'm messing up. The one thing that a lot of writers don't seem to understand is that we all need editors. I don't care how good you are, how much success or how many degrees you have. You will always need an editor. Which of course leads into my rant on self-publishing without hiring one which I will spare you. My dad is not an editor but darn it if he's not a great beta reader. I never sent him anything to read that he didn't catch something I missed or didn't think of. Not once. Everyone needs a reader like that. But you can't have mine.
I think that's everything on the brain tonight. I've not gotten anything written today - not like I usually do. It's just been one of those days when the brain is unwilling to assist. The muse is singing but the brain can't seem to translate it tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.
CrazyHorse is sick again. We had him on singulair and we thought it was working great - but he's still wheezing. So, the doctor added in Flovent. I won't know for another week and a half if that's doing anything. But now, he's coughing again. And that is a scary thing for us now. Already got the go ahead to give him cough syrup to help with the symptoms but the symptoms are only a part of it. If it's just a cold, that will be awesome but there's this little wee voice that keeps reminding me that we thought the first bout of pneumonia was 'just a cold'. It's not hard to get that mixed up as, apparently CrazyHorse doesn't present with a fever. Ever. Wolverine has added not eating to his growing list of things to do to ensure mama ends up a quivering mass of worry at the end of every day. Between that and the scratching and the refusing to sleep in a real bed - I'm just at my wits end. We won't discuss the dogs.
I'm making progress on both of my current projects - and not getting anything done on anything else. But, I'm up to chapter six of Purgatory's Queen and chapter sixteen of Thosha-Tol and I think both of them are coming along nicely.
Now, for my favorite part of this post.
I know I'm a fortunate woman. I have a great dad. He's the best beta reader I've got. Scoff all you want but the man doesn't mince words, doesn't pat me on the head and tell me I'm wonderful. I'd hate that. He has no trouble reading a chapter and pointing out the inconsistencies, things that don't make logical sense, and he's awesome with bits of factual information that no one else would know - like the shortened versions of Russian names or where a certain act would have tripped a breaker and not caused a shower of sparks. Maybe it's less visually fun that way but it's more realistic. I'm fortunate to have a reader like that - he doesn't mince words because he wants me to succeed. He has always laid this foundation for me. Made me learn to work hard for the little things so when I started taking on the big things, it wasn't such a shock. It's kind of funny that he'd call me up this evening, wanting to make sure I'm taking his comments the way they are intended - as constructive, helpful critisisms and nothing more. What makes this funny is that I very nearly sent him an email today to remind me of a couple of conversations had in the last few days with various other writers who really weren't looking for opinions but for ooos and ahhs. So that if I ever got defensive and persnickety with his helping me, I could remember that I'm sending him PQ, not for praise (though the occasional pointing out of things I'm doing well is really nice), but for a second pair of eyes to catch where I'm messing up. The one thing that a lot of writers don't seem to understand is that we all need editors. I don't care how good you are, how much success or how many degrees you have. You will always need an editor. Which of course leads into my rant on self-publishing without hiring one which I will spare you. My dad is not an editor but darn it if he's not a great beta reader. I never sent him anything to read that he didn't catch something I missed or didn't think of. Not once. Everyone needs a reader like that. But you can't have mine.
I think that's everything on the brain tonight. I've not gotten anything written today - not like I usually do. It's just been one of those days when the brain is unwilling to assist. The muse is singing but the brain can't seem to translate it tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.