And I've been writing. Or more specifically, revising. But I've reached the last third of the book and am actively rewriting. How much do I love my hero? So, so much. He's focused and serious, working to put all his broken pieces back together again. Without the help of all the kings horses and all the kings men.
Mike put the car in park and waited while Chase went into Mary’s to grab some much needed coffee. They were both running on empty and a couple levels past grouchy. They needed caffeine and sugar. His fingers gripped the steering wheel. Lily was pissed because Grace was upset. Ergo, Chase was pissed because Lily was pissed and puking. And because Grace was upset. All of it made Mike’s head ache and his guts hurt. He didn’t know much about panic attacks, but he was pretty sure he’d come close last night.And my heroine? She is loyal and tough and makes me laugh. But she's also a little sad, a lot lost, not literally, and her answers to the big life questions no longer seem like the right ones.
Grace sat back down in front of the ashes of past fires. The debris of happier times. What would rise from them? She raised her feet to seat of the old Adirondack-styled chair and hugged her knees.
Have you ever felt like that? Like you knew every little nook and cranny, every dip and turn of the landscape? You see it, it looks the same, but everything has changed. That's where Grace is at.
The other thing? It's also the end of summer in my book. The air is ripe with harvest. Their having beach days, and barbeques and Labour Day parties. Flowers are spilling out of everywhere and the goodness from gardens are gracing tables.
And, damn it, it just snowed four inches here. We made a snowman.
What's your world look like today?