Eleanor Tatum

Yes, it’s been five weeks since my publisher propagated my protagonist and probably propelled him into oblivion. Yes, I do enjoy alliteration, proportionately. 

During THE WAIT writers are encouraged by those other writers who have been through THE MILL to move on, to create, to organize and improve that WIP.  I’ve proceeded with my Work In Progress and it’s a switch in genre from romantic contemporary to historical. I gave some timely thought about  futuristic settings like the extremely successful JD Robb, but with our government crisis and world events I’d rather not write about the future. Although, since I write fiction…

Drafting this fourth novel is also a switch from my traditional computer pecking to pencil pushing. On my DOL (daily objectives list) I schedule a word count on the white (computer) and a hopeful number of pages of yellow (the legal pad).  I jot, note and scribble and occasionally illustrate all over the yellow, while the white at first appears far more formal, although it’s still completely unedited.  Yellow legal pads draw me to them. I’m attracted to them in my favorite Staples, all neatly grouped in a family of ten. I addictively click on the “Buy Now” button on Amazon anyway, so I reason I might as well buy more yellow from them as well.

Book Four has been outlined on a yellow pad along with the first five chapters, but I can’t seem to pull myself away from my favored yellow to peck on the white, to formalize.  I must discover a cure for this addiction to yellow. THE WAIT will soon be over and then there’ll be no time left to create. 

Enough.

PS:  Please do not misunderstand. I love my publisher, Rebel Ink Press.

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Recently I’ve had the opportunity to spend time and energy at a nursing home. Don’t stop reading. If you’re lucky, you’ll be older someday.

The lady of my focus can communicate, she can speak, fortunately for her. Try to put yourself in her preverbal Indian moccasins, try to communicate your immediate needs. Oh wait…you can’t walk and your arthritic hands won’t allow you to write. You can express descriptions of your necessary needs, which by the way, are not being met when you need them to be met.

No wonder the Victorians labeled their bathroom as “The Necessary”. That is far more correct. We use that room far more often than just bathing.

Ah, I digress. Returning to my lady of focus, my mother-in-law, she can also describe her pains, her aches, and her frustrations at late and lame medications. Now, try on that wheelchair of those who cannot speak. Pray to the God of your blessings for those seniors. My lady of focus thanks you.  

Enough.

Next week I’ll return to the controllable and positive world of romantic fiction.  

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