The Witches are Drafted!!!

WoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!

That’s a relief. Now to let that sit for a bit.

I can’t really decide if the story I have that’s in the batter’s box is ready for prime time. I’m going to sit on it for a while, too.

I think that leaves only Ben & Sue on my writing to-do list at the moment.

Woo! Again.

Summer Spent Wheel-Spinning

I’m feeling a little like I spent my summer spinning my wheels AND that I got a lot accomplished. I guess that’s how it works sometimes. You can’t make yarn without spinning your wheels, right?

So, here are my goals:

1. Finish up a rough draft of the Witches.

2. Polish up a story to throw in the “shopping around” mix to replace “It Came from the Sunny Side of the Mountain,” which is going in the Witches mix.

3. Get back into Ben & Sue.

The Witches

I only have one more story left! I tried to incorporate as many different types of witches as I possibly could–Wiccan-y witches, Devil-deal-making witches, witches who just perform magic of some sort, folklore witches, a Goddess of witches, and I even think I have an interesting take on The Bell Witch.

No idea what I’m going to do for that last story, though. Not yet, anyway.

I will say this–writing this many stories this quickly is a great exercise in just churning stuff out. And there are quite a few that I feel really good about–like wow, that is something. Maybe not a perfect something, but a something.

Do Dogs Get Pissed?

I’ve seen dogs get mad. Obviously, they get aggressive. And I’ve seen dogs not like a particular person.

But I’ve never seen a dog behave like Mrs. Wigglebottom is behaving. Hell, I’ve never seen Mrs. Wigglebottom behave how Mrs. Wigglebottom is behaving. If you’ve been over, you know that you arrive, there’s much barking and bottom wiggling and attempts to sit on your lap and to get all of the butt scratches you have to give.

But when the Butcher returned home, Mrs. Wigglebottom got up off the couch and went and got in my closet. No barking, no wiggling. And, like right now, since she’s sure the Butcher is asleep, she’s in there sleeping on the floor where she can keep an eye on him, but when he stirs, she rushes into my room so that, I guess, he doesn’t see that she cares?

I don’t know how to understand this, since it would seem to take a level of emotional sophistication both that I didn’t know dogs had and that I’ve never seen her exhibit. Because it’s like she has two contradictory emotions. She seems glad he’s home–in secret, where he can’t see it–and completely unbothered by his reappearance, less than impressed, even.