One project ends, another begins; it’s how you do it, really. Suggestive Amusements is in the can–or on the hard drive, as this case may be–and my information for a book cover for Her Demonic Majesty is off to a friend for her appraisal. What is left to do?
Edit, what else?
Replacements is under the literary knife again. I’m giving it another polish in, preparing it for it’s own publication date. That will mean getting a cover for it as well, and prepping the manuscript for ebooks, but that’s easy. Well, the formatting is: not sure on the cover yet. But it’s all coming together. If anything, as I edit, I can format. I did Chapter One last night; I’ll likely edit Chapter Two tonight, then start doing a format on Chapter One–which is a small chapters–to get back into the swing of getting an ebook ready.
Even with all this, there are always things going on in my mind. Are those story ideas you’re talking about, Cassie? Why, yes: yes, they are.
There is a set of stories that I’ve developed of a particular set of characters. As of this moment I have three stories written about them that amount to three long novels, one short novel, and a novella. I’m so tied into these characters, in fact, that I have a time line of their lives figured out, and that the stories that revolve around those lives.
Last week I was thinking about one of those stories, one that takes place further along in their lives, and it’s an event that, as they say in the business, changes them forever. It really does, because it’s needed for later in their lives, and for the stories that follow. As I want to do, I thought out things from a meta standpoint, with the intention of figuring out things later. As for the meta, it goes into a file, or my head, both of which are pretty good for that sort of thing.
Here is the kicker, though: the night before, I had a dream that revolved around what I’d been thinking about, as well as some of the research I’d done, because I’m all about the research . . .
I know it was about a place I’d researched for this story, because I just did. It was in the mountains; it was night and the air was crisp, with fall approaching. I was sitting alongside someone, both of us wearing thick sweaters against the mountain chill. There was wine, just a small glass each, because you want to enjoy the alcohol-infused warmth that comes from sitting a sweet white wine.
Then, after the lateness of the hour became apparent, inside we go to sit before a fire, stretching out upon an overstuffed sofa–
Which is where my dream ended. But the writer in me–ah, I see thing going beyond that. Because the overstuffed sofa reminds me of two people in a very different place, with their own sofa, their over comforters, their own fire . . . and plenty of pumpkin juice, hot chocolate, and cheese banitsas. All the things meant to keep a couple warm . . .
All the things they’d need to remind them of their love.