Bubbling

Bubbling over, to be honest.

And that isn't Always a good thing. Think pasta pots and stovetops. Think wasting a third of a bottle of tasty prosecco if/when I stumble before opening it, and two shakes of a good bottle later, you have less than you'd wanted.

But right now, it is a good thing. My brain is thoroughly a-bubble and it's been productive (not something I can usually say.

My two short stories have feedback trickling in from a few generous beta readers (THANK YOU LADIES!!) and I am putting together checklists and action items to keep things moving forward.

WHAT The heck for?

I am putting together a mixed-media portfolio of sorts, including assemblage/collage art. When the portfolio is complete, there are several different options I am considering for product development. And I do have a specific idea of what this will entail, but until I can pound out a business plan, it doesn't bear mentioning here. Happily, the web is full of HIGHLY encouraging resources.

As with writing, business doesn't get anywhere if you give up. Because of my blessed situation at home with the kids, it is to my benefit to pace myself and keep our world calm and stable. If I charge into something, I will burn myself out, and then EVERYthing will suffer. And I won't stick to my plan.

In practical, real world terms, I am going to be drawing and painting more, brushing up my business correspondence skills, and trying to do everything More efficiently at home, so there is MORE time for my loves and for my art. I am digging into research (so far I have about 25 pages of notes and pictures) and following up with practical resources online. As things unroll, I will post visuals here, so you can see the busyness pay off. I will leave you with a scrap of story number three (actually, it's the entirety of #3 so far, but it is fun :-) and there will be more.

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Paternal Duty, Discharged

My daughter sends me out, a withering glance heavy as a shove across my shoulders. I shrug them into the feathered cape, while she nods twice. Abruptly. Tilts eyes sidewise and looks down her nose. Says to my back, almost out the door, "Don't think of coming back without meat tonight. I don't care whose. Even if it takes you till morning." 

I half turn, and bow low to her. She, my only child.

"Bonne nuit, ma chère fille. Bonne nuit."

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There you have it. Lucky number three.


Have a lovely, productive day :-) I'll check back in next week, and let you know if I've already fallen into a self-dug pit. At least, if I do, i think it will be a pretty one!!

thanks again for coming by!

S.