7's Up

I'm always looking for something to write about that won't bore a reader to sad little reader pieces and Josephine Myles on Facebook tagged me for this. While I'm still trying to figure out how Facebook works, anyone stopping by here gets the benefit. 

What it is is seven lines from the seventh page of your current work in progress, then you tag seven other authors. (Um, Slash & Burn authors, consider yourself tagged!) 

So here's my seven lines from the seventh page of a historical that has seized my brain and won't let me work on what I'd been planning. I'm calling it Dead to Me right now. 

It takes place in 1896 in Cornwall. 

I disembarked at the Looe station in the early evening. The air was warm, scented with thick growth and cleansed by the sea. My blackened London lungs immediately rebelled in a violent cough, the hacking echoing through my rattled and aching bones.

The last stretch of track had been laid without regard for safety or comfort, either clinging to  cliff face on a steep incline or traversing a spit of land in salty marsh. I’d done far too much clinging to the hard wooden seat back in my third class carriage, damn Fred to the ninth circle of hell with the other traitors. It had been far too easy to become accustomed to a life of finer things and small luxuries such as clean linen and soft seating.

Informercial voice: But wait, there's more. 

Here's what I thought I'd be working on. Feel free to chime in with opinions and make my manuscript ADD settle. This is seven from page seven of the next Baltimore book, Bad Habit. 

Silver looked back at Marco, who, yeah, Silver had dragged up to Mount Washington. What a fucking time for Silver’s conscience to come back from the dead. He ran down the driveway.

It was easy enough to find the tools in the freakishly neat garage. Remembering how his father had never been happy when he sent Silver for tools, he came back with the wrench and three different-sized screwdrivers which he shoved into the arrogant asshole's hands before backing away.

Though Silver was fuck-all certain the only time Gavin looked under a car’s hood was in a gleaming showroom, the two older guys got cozy and flirty over the engine. It was all Silver could do to not roll his eyes.

My fascination with music

I will be the first person to tell you that I have a sincere lack of musical talent. I can't sing on key and I am only a passable guitar player. I am a decent bohdran player, though, but I can't tell you why.

This lack of talent is hugely frustrating to me because I somehow think I should be decent or at least be able to quickly learn, anything I set my mind to. Yah - as you can tell, I have delusions of grandeur or something.

Mr. Maura, on the other hand, is an ex-choir singer with excellent pitch and a very good ethnic drummer. I fear I'm an endless source of disappointment to him. Over 15 years he has at least managed to disguise his winces when I just sing because I'm happy. Mostly he just leaves the room.

Despite this, I'm fascinated by people who are musical. I love to listen to music but I can't do it while I do something else because it steals my attention. I swear I'll start typing the lyrics I hear instead of what I intend to type. I can easily listen to television without it interfering but not music. So I don't write to music - if I put music on, I tend to pay attention to it though I can knit or make jewelry while I listen.

This fascination also encompasses those people who make music and write it. I'm engrossed with figuring out what their relationship to the music is. What do they play in response to their moods? What does music do to their mood? Do they feel a need to play and write or can they sorta take it or leave it?

I think the last few days have been filled with these ideas because my celtic rock band, Bran's Visions, and its members have been wanting me to write about them. NOW. I'm taking this as a good sign of my muse being alive and awake but it's played hell on my reading time because I keep searching out music and listening to it instead. Right now it's classical violin because one of my band members is a fiddler with classical training and he turns to the classics in response to his moods. Right now he's VERY sad and upset and so is the music he's playing only for himself - or so he thinks.

MLK day and musing around

For those of us in the US, I hope everyone had a good Martin Luther King day. :) It was nice to have a three day weekend, though it went by too fast. And didn't the kiddies just go back to school?

Well, my muse has made a comeback and I've made a lot of progress, which is why today I thought I'd post some eye-candy so I can get back to writing.