Snowy Slush and Late Night Mush!

There is a winter wonderland of slush outside, and my desire to merrily sing Christmas tunes has been sated. There's just no rejoicing to be had when you're sloshing around in scummy looking wet snow! But it started out rather majestically...come January, when the deep freeze sets in and sticks the snow to every living and inanimate object, I'll probably wish for the changeable nature of slush! Till then, bring on the sunshine. And sleep...can't wait to curl up in my flannel sheets tonight because, (what else is new?) I'm pooped.
More success writing tonight. It appears I need a good 2-3 hour window to be really productive. By the time I finish searching for that word that's on the tip of my tongue but just won't come out, or research whether or not 18th century France had ice boxes, it takes 3 hours to get a good chunk of writing done. It frustrates me that I can't have that much time each night of the week! And, when I do, by 10:00 Bailey is staring at me to rub her, and let her out to pee and then put her to bed. Yes: I communicate with my dog. In fact, I know all the different tones of her barks like a mother does her babies cries! Right now she's guilt tripping me with the biggest sighs I've ever heard emitted from an animal. They can be roughly interpreted as: "I don't understand why daddy is in bed sleeping, and I'm not!"
I feel like I've made some really great progress on the story. My characters are developing on paper (they're already developed in my head), and they're actually getting places geographically and emotionally...the story is slowly unfolding! Nola's 6-year old self is firmly esconced in France, elements of her character being revealed through her actions (like galloping a pony through a field to her mother's chagrin)...it's a whole new story. To explain further, I started this whole idea on a completely different bent, at a later date than 1782. It was so EXCITING and I loved it...but it needed more background. Then, adding the background with flashbacks made it too choppy and felt the pace of the narrative was lost. So all those flashbacks and now an entirely new book on their own, a prequel in a sense to the original story, now book 1 in what will inevitably (because, as you can see, I'm wordy) become a multivolume saga!
Amazing how you start with one thing, and it ends up completely different in such surprisingly pleasing ways!
I just kick Bailey off the couch before she falls asleep again...when she gets to that stage I must physically drag her off while she gives me the evil eye (ha, should have put me to bed sooner, mum!). She'll hang 3/4 off the couch before finally relenting to drop a foot to the floor.
I'm hoping to pull some passages soon (all those flashbacks) from my first manuscript into this new one, the first attempt sitting at about 30,000 words right now, and that will hopefully boost up my word count drastically. I'll never make it to 50,000 by the 30th in order to (try to) win this NaNoWriMo competition, but I'll keep trying! No matter what, progress is progress, and if I continue this pace past the 30th, I'm guaranteed to finish the book sooner (and get published?!!!!!!) than if I had never bothered to enter the contest at all. Amazing what a little competition will do.

Novel Word Count: (drum roll....) 11,098!

Snowy Days and Sundays = Writer's Best Friend

Finally, success! The snow began to fall this morning, and a feeling of luxurious timeless descended on our house. There's is nothing like being at home, knowing you don't need to be anywhere else, to do anything but what you love, while you watch the snowflakes fall from the sky and alight on the ground.
I spent three hours of my day in the kitchen covered in flour...up to my elbows in pastry and yummy meat filling for homemade meat pies. According to my mother, I have inherited my grandmother's knack for pastry, and it just so happens my husband is a pastry lover. I cracked out my Australia Women's Weekly meat pie recipe, and off I went! A delicious treat well worth the elbow grease.
I also (and I must say, most importantly!) managed to sit for huge amounts of time and write away. I feel great knowing I've accomplished some writing today, and have boosted my wordcount up 2,000 words from yesterday! THAT is what I love about Sundays, and snowy days. I can start my week on good footing, reading to dive in Monday night from where I left off today. This is good - very very good! I can go to bed content, frustrated only that the weekend has come to end, but happy that it was fruitful.

Novel Word count: 9,786! 

Confessions of an Inquisitive Child...

Each author has an ish...mine is description. I delight in finding the perfect words to describe a situation, taste, smell, sight, or feel...but sometimes such descriptions require confessions of a rather embarrassing nature, that elicit less than favourable responses in others.
For instance, my first host father in Germany was an epicurean sort, who love good cheese and wine and lavished his rotund figure with it on a regular basis. He often travelled around Europe collecting delights, such as mounds (and I do mean mounds) of Swiss chocolate for me to try (one of every bar, some enormous...which I proceeded to polish off within a week) and Petit Ecolier cookies from France. Most memorable of course, was his trip to Paris, from which he brought back the best of aged brie and camembert. I thought this wonderful...until I tasted it. All I could say, is that it tasted like dirty gym socks. Most took this to mean I had, at some point, sample dirty gym socks and found the flavour comparable to that of camembert. What I meant to say is, it takes like what I IMAGINE dirty gym socks to taste like...you get my point. Word choice is everything!
Tonight, I attempted to describe the unexpected, bitter flavour of Seville marmalade to a 6-year-old during the 18th century, who is from a place where even just a plain orange would be hard to come by. And, for some reason, ear wax came to mind. I have had this thought before...when I was 11 I had open heart surgery, but was terrified of being put under with a needle, and didn't want gas either. I had (and still do) a particular hatred for black licorice because it tasted like the flavour left in my mouth from sleeping gas, when I'd had tubes put in my ears several years before. So, I opted for a liquid anaesthetic. All I can say is, it tasted like earwax.
Now, don't give me that look! Everyone always cringes when I say this, and I know what you're thinking. Do you eat earwax often? But I know you know what I mean. Surely, most of us have, at some point, had a little tickle in our ears, and dared to plunge a digit inside to expunge the itch. Then, without thinking, you later put your finger in your mouth, to floss your teeth, or pick out a popcorn kernel, or likc your fingers because you (very naughtily) ate some crap-packed orange cheesies and they're just finger licking good. And you get this horrible taste in your mouth, bitter, and realize it's ear wax.
Surely, I'm not the only one who has done this? Goodness, someone's even written a book about it!
Well, there you go. I confess: I have tasted earwax. But I know I'm not the only one.
What other strange confessions will my attempts at description elicit?

Novel Word Count To Date: 7,662