After having to skip last year’s Writers Weekend (WW) due to life being lifey, Steph, Deb, and I have hied up to the Poconos for our (usually) annual “writers” retreat. They get a respite from their families, and I get to chill with two amazing women while we all hopefully get some shit done. It started out as writing but has morphed to include the various projects we’ve all got going on. It also started down at the Jersey Shore but migrated up to the Poconos when Deb and her husband got a vacation home. So, the details change over the years, but the people are every bit as awesome. (I’m thinking tomorrow’s to do is tracking down my old posts on past WWs for archival purposes and maybe some productive procrastination).
Deb’s fighting a hella bad cold but researching for an upcoming project like the bamf she is.
Steph’s doing a bunch of awesome things, which I’ll let her tell you about.
I finally, finally, finally finished the Landa book one rewrites I’ve been futzing with for AGES now. Did that last night. I wrote on WW, go me! Today I’ve been futzing (it’s a good word!) with Kindle Direct Publishing. Spent way too much time designing a cover. Then downloaded an open source Photoshop equivalent to redesign it. But I nabbed the perfect stock image for it, so there is that. The rest of the day has been spent compiling the document from Scrivener and figuring out what the fuck goes where. Once upon a time I worked as a book editor on ebooks as well as writing and had the scary realization that I’ve become (at least on this book) the type of author I cursed out–so many italics in this goddamned manuscript. I should nuclear option the formatting, but ugh. Damn you Landa and your fondness for italics and hearing of dead people. Oh, and I knit some on the socks I’m making for myself. Appropriate since the whole knitting thing started one WW when Deb as working on a pair of socks.
Just finished eating a delicious pot roast that Deb made. Last night was crockpot chicken masala by yours truly. And tomorrow Steph’s making chicken Florentine, I think. We don’t go hungry at WW, that’s for sure.
Not much else to say, other than it’s cold as balls out. Oh, and we’ve all sworn off Twitter for the weekend, which feels kind of nice if a bit disconnected.