Monday, May 23, 2011

A Letter from Lily

May 23, 2011

Hello,

     Do you know LM DeWalt? If so, would you give her a message for me? I'd tell her myself but I don't know where she is or what she's doing. If you see her, please ask her not to leave me alone for too long because even a day is too much to handle.
     I understand that she has other responsibilities. I know how hectic life can get. She has a family and those private students she sees once a week (I'm not jealous or anything). She goes to college and I totally understand how demanding that can be, having been to college a few times myself. I also understand that she goes to Gettysburg quite often with her husband (again- not jealous, but she could take me with her once in a while). What I don't understand is how she can leave me at the worst of times. I know, I'm a vampire and I'm supposed to have an endless supply of energy and all, but I do get bored.
     One time, she left me dancing for days. That can get really old, especially when it's the same song playing over and over and over! Even a vampire's feet can get sore, since she expects me to dance in heels (just because she can't dance in flats)! I won't mention all the times she left me alone in book one (way too many to list). Book two was flowing along quite nicely, until two days ago. I don't know if it's school keeping her away or something else, but I'm dying here, literally! She just left me bleeding all over the place. Fiore, from what I hear, is getting sick of mopping up all the blood and, unless my trusty (and absent) author comes back soon, the blood won't stop. I doubt she wants to deal with Fiore's temper then. Believe me, sometimes I don't mind a break from all the trouble she puts me through (I don't hold her personally responsible- sometimes) but why now? I'm in Lima, Peru and I have lots of sightseeing to do.
     So please, be a friend and pass along the message for me. Maybe you have her email address or her cell number (she never gave them to me) and can get in touch with her. Tell her I'm getting sick of waiting and feeling very useless just laying around bleeding to death.

Thank you,
Lily Townsend

P.S. If you know what she's doing, please fill me in. I won't tell her you told me.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Where do I write? I'll tell you.

     I have heard that question a few times so I decided to finally answer it. Some authors write in a home office. I have one. I don't write there. It feels too much like work in that room. Some authors write in a coffee shop. I've tried that too, but I'm a big people watcher and that's just too distracting for me. So where do I write?
     The dining room is a good place-- sometimes. Other times, it's too distracting because of all the video game playing going on in the living room. You know how much yelling that involves! My favorite place to write is in the bedroom. What is my bedroom like? I could tell you that it's a cozy room, complete with flowers and candles, but that would be a lie (though I do have candles and flowers- oh, wait, they're dead). It is probably the messiest room in the house and I love it, most days. At the moment, I am sitting on the bed (with no sheets because they are in the dryer) with my computer on my lap where it belongs. On my husband's side of the bed, there are four piles of my summer clothes that are too lazy to walk themselves into the closet, even though I left the door open for them. On top and in front of my vanity table are piles of college books that refuse to walk down the hall and move into the office (guess I have to do that too!). On the left is my nightstand. That contains the usual alarm clock, cup of coffee, pen, glass of iced tea from last night (yup, still good), and my trusty "wake up with an idea and write in this little notebook so I can go back to sleep so I might as well type it up anyway" notebook.
     I'm not sure I even want to get into what is on the floor except that there's a bottle of Ginger Ale from when I had the flu (probably won't try that one) and my stuffed penguin that is face down on the carpet. Sounds like a disaster, right? Yet, I love it here. The cat loves it here. My husband doesn't complain (except for maybe when I am looking for a specific shirt out of hundreds and can't figure out which pile it's in). I'm comfortable here and so are my characters. They don't seem to visit me as much anywhere else.
     Where do you write? If you don't write, where do you read?