Apparently March decided to go out like one hell of lion. My heart goes out to everyone affected by the appalling number of tornadoes and the sheer amount of destruction that stretched from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico today.

Dallas got off damned lightly—we got a fair amount of wind but that was about it. I was in my office when the clouds started passing over us and by the time they reached the east they were bruised and ugly. Watching the reports coming in from Little Rock was horrendous. I’m grateful that my friends and family in Arkansas were all okay, not to mention everyone else I know in places that got bad weather today. One of my favorite TikTok creators had a tornado touch down near her and damage her husband’s place of employment, and another creator in Arkansas had one come uncomfortably close.

Unfortunately, these storms aren’t going to stop any time soon, what with climate change adding more heat to the environment. I need to update our go bags and make sure we have enough carriers for all the cats (we have two hardshells and one fabric one that I bought to transport J.J., but I can pick up another fabric one on Friday which will give us carriers for all of the J Crew.

Claw‘s final edit has been finished, thank Cthulhu. Of course, the time change has completely messed with my time sense and has in effect stolen an hour that I kinda needed right now so that’s annoying.

Needless to say, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I’m relatively sure it’s not an oncoming train. If I can spend tomorrow running the final polish edits and putting everything into Vellum, I should be able to release at some point on Tuesday. It’s not going to be at midnight like it would be if I’d put it on pre-order, but it’ll still be out.

I’m sorry, I know this isn’t very interesting but it’s like I’m in the last mile of a marathon and I’m just telling myself I can do it, I can do it, put one foot in front of the other and at some point I’ll cross the finish line. J.J. getting so sick last week really stole away a lot of spoons and I don’t really have my stores built back up yet, but I will get there.

So, how much does Daylight Savings Time suck for you?

Just had a seriously nasty thunderstorm with high winds pass over Casa Cameron that kicked off with one hell of a powerful updraft. It literally had the house shaking and the J Crew freaking out while I ran around closing windows and eyeing our tornado hideout under the stairs. The sirens sounded pretty much continuously for about fifteen minutes but we didn’t get any hail and no local tornadoes, touch wood. Can’t check for roof or fence damage until tomorrow but I’m hoping we’re all good and I am sincerely grateful that we still have power (a lot of local friends don’t).

Of course, my UPS’s battery picked tonight to die on me. Ramón was able to dig out a massive surge suppressor for me and I have everything on my writing desk plugged into that for now (I’m more concerned about everything being on a surge suppressor than a UPS. If the desktop shuts down over night, oh well). There are a couple of places in the area where I can pick up a replacement battery so I’ll see about doing that over the weekend.

As you know, Bob, I use any sort of crafting as part of my writing process and work on plot points or full stories while I’m sewing/knitting/crocheting/whatever. And I’ve used that to great effect in the last two months while I’ve been finishing projects from my office closet.

Except. While I was working on the Skulls and Roses swing dress I started thinking about a SF story. Not a romance—a straight-up SF thriller sort of idea about a cruise-type spaceship inbound from a colony around Jupiter coming down with some exotic alien disease and people scrambling on Earth to determine whether or not the passengers can be allowed to disembark. Why you do this to me, Muse?

No, I’m not going to work on it, at least not right now. I have the Paladins of Crystal and Olympic Cove series to finish first, plus the other books that I want to get out this year. The SF story can keep percolating in the back of my brain for now. But it’s like, “Really? Really, you do this to me now? Don’t I already have enough to write?”

Maybe I should try dictating again. Lord, if I could make that work I could churn out everything I’ve ever wanted to write.

As I work on the last couple of chapters for Shifter Woods: Claw I keep thinking about plot elements for Olympic Cove, or Hidden Empire, or Two Thrones, or Paladins of Crystal. It’s not exactly distracting me, but I keep getting flashes of sending my main trio in High Tide (Olympic Cove Book 5) to New Orleans as part of a deal to get one of them home … only to find out that the NOLA trip complicates things even more. Or how the main couple in To Love a Wild Swan (Hidden Empire Book 3) are going to have an enemies to lovers romance, or how the MMC in Mage of Fire (Two Thrones Book 5) has to convince a prim librarian to help him find a hidden book of magic, only to have to kidnap her in order to keep her alive. What I’ve got cooking in my back brain for Paladins of Crystal is way too involved to get into here.

Clearly I really need to get this damn novella done so that I can go back to work on my series before they start leaking out of my ears.

I’m not sure what’s going on but I feel like absolute crap today. Hot, exhausted, and in no shape to cook or do anything much. In fact, I feel a lot like Charles Darwin did in the quote at right. Pollen is a strong suspect—the mountain cedar count for DFW is hellish at the moment and my car looks like it hasn’t been driven for months, the dust is so thick on it.

Ramón suggested that I go take a nap but I wasn’t able to get any reasonable sleep. So I got back up and somehow hammered out a thousand words on Claw. Because even though I feel like a sad little potato right now, I have work to do and I can accomplish it if I nail my ass to the chair and remind myself that everything can be fixed in the edit.

Hopefully we’ll get some rain soon and wash some of this crap out of the air. In the meantime, I’ve got work to do.

I say that because I started 2023 with a very clear plan of what I wanted to achieve this year—finish the Paladins of Crystal series, finish the Olympic Cove series, and write at least one additional book for Hidden Empire and Two Thrones.

So what am I doing? I’m still working on Shifter Woods: Claw, the novella no one asked for but my OCD brain said was necessary to finish out the Esposito County Shifters series since I had to move Shifter Woods: Roar to the end as an associated novella. And until I finish that novella, I literally cannot work on anything else—I tried working on Crystal Blade and sat there staring at the screen for an hour.

I swear to God, my Muse likes to fuck with me purely for shits and giggles. So, new goal: finish Claw by the end of Monday, come hell or high water. I only have maybe 14K to go. I can DO that in four days without breaking a sweat, I know I can. And if you see me on social media between now and Monday night, ask me pointedly how Claw is coming along, please.

And now, I must brush my teeth, apply deodorant, and do battle with the keyboard. Selah.

The title of this post, by the way, is an occurrence that requires a certain amount of planning in my life. I either have to leave the house or go into my office or bedroom, make sure that the room is cat-free, then close the door. Frex, as I type this downstairs while taking a break from making a batch of Holiday Leftover Chelsea Buns (truly the best way to use up leftover turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, thank you Paul Hollywood), I have a large orange cat sitting on my left doing his absolute best to use my wrist as a headrest.

Sorry, Jeremy. You can rest your head later. Right now, Mommy needs to blog.

Solitude is probably one of the greatest boons a writer can get, and one of the most difficult to obtain. If you have a spouse, kids, pets, parents who live with you, or other individuals who want a claim on your time, it can be hard to find a gentle way to tell them to bugger off, you’re working. It’s even harder when the individual thinks you’re just goofing off with this whole writing hobby and should be spending more time with them (glares balefully at the J Crew).

A good friend of mine who’s also a writer has an elderly parent living with her and the parent wants Friend to be surgically attached to their side at all times. Driving to various appointments, watching TV shows that Friend is not interested in, making meals and cleaning up, basically turning Friend into a satellite around their parental self. I know this sounds horrible but if that was me I would either be screaming regularly or gulping handfuls of Valium.

Which just makes me that much more grateful for Ramón. When I fixed the lock on my office door a few weeks ago and started using it while writing (mainly to keep the cats out) I was worried that Ramón might be hurt that I was locking him out as well.

When I asked him about it, he gave me a quizzical look and said, “Petal, I figure if you’re in your office and the door is locked, you’re hip deep in a story and don’t want to be bothered. Usually when I come in to talk to you I just want to vent about what’s happening at work or give you a drive-by kiss. I can always do that later once you’re finished. If it’s something really important, like the house is on fire, don’t worry—I’ll knock.”

This is one of the many, many reasons why we are going on our thirtieth year of marriage, by the way.

I think what I’m trying to say here is, if you live with or know a writer, one of the greatest gifts you can give them is alone time. Cook dinner, take care of the kids, watch TV by yourself, and give them an hour or two to bang on the keyboard in peace.

Unlike Jeremy, who is bound and determined for me to act as headrest. Fine, come here, you big lug…