Stayed up late writing, so slept late and woke up late, so had to postpone this morning’s run — summer schedule is more complicated than one might think. But I’ve had breakfast and coffee and am settled in the shed for hopefully a day of novel-writing.
I’ve heard back from one of the people who read the newest version of the “Skin Deep” story, and she loved it, so I am feeling pleased and also with renewed confidence in the value of my revisions. H/t to Jenn Reese who told me that my main problem was that I was reluctant to revise; I think she was actually right, and I may have to buy her several drinks at the next con we’re at together… Inspiration and coherent beauty can come in the fourth draft, truly. I don’t know why I lost confidence in that.
The kids are making banana bread, the bit of the garden I can see from the shed is finally mulched, and I got the fountain properly up and running last night, so all’s well here. A garden should have water, ideally running water. The shady corner, newly-planted, finally, did come out v. nicely, with the hosta and purple heuchera and Jacob’s ladder and bleeding heart. Sometimes, your visions work, for gardens and for stories.
Feeling serene, for a change.
Not for shade, but I think getting enough sun there (it’s sort of a weird combo area, with close to full sun in a little bit and close to deep shade in a different bit), we also have baby dogwood tree, Sweet Summer Love clematis just starting to bloom (soon that fence will be covered in tiny wine-red flowers), and orange daylily, also blooming soon.
I’m delighting in the drumstick alliums with the purple veronica spikes — they seem very Seussian, somehow.
Turning off FB shortly, for a few hours, at least.