Done DoneDoneDone DONE DoneDONE!

Hallelujah!

Catching Up

And now I've got that out of my system, I can start catching up on the past two weeks.  I've been deeeeep in bunkerland, forgot to even check the PO this week.  Three killer deadlines in three months will do it to you.

"Done" at this point means last scene written and -END- at end, but I still have to proofread the last bits of blitz and then do a printout for Production.  That should make it in the mail by Wednesday--technically a full 30 days in advance of deadline, but with an October pub date, soonest is best.

NaNoWriMo can eat my dust.  I did about 60,000 publisher-ready words this month.  The last week, I was coming out with a minimum of 20 pages a day (high of 27) as compared to a normal speed of 5-7 (at about 200 words per page on the Word counter).  This is when the writing is so organic it pours out--like taking dictation.  The scenes are like totally there and it's just a matter of recording them.  Even at the end, there were some surprises--things that showed up and let me know they were Really Going To Matter Later.  (later as in next book or books)

My resolution for 2005 is to cut back on blitzes.  The deadlines are spread out a lot more--the main ones are June 1st and Dec. 31st--which will help tremendously.  This time I had Nov. 1st and Dec. 31st plus a "wild card" project that came in and needed to be done Right Then And There.  That meant the high anxiety started along about July (in no way lessened by Refi-From-Hell) and didn't let up until, well, last night.  Once this puppy hits the decks, I'm taking six weeks off--"off" as in will still have editing and revision and proposals and such, but no first draft.

Winter is most definitely here, with daytime temps in the 50s and 60s and nights in the 30s and 40s.  Pooka the Weather Wimp needs his blankie every night now.  The rest of the crew do just fine down to about freezing, but our temperature gradient means that if it gets down in the 20s, they want some help--ditto if it's 38 and pouring, which it's been at least once a week all month.  Tonight is supposed to be more like 32 and pouring.  With wind.  Blanket Brigade, here we come.

Lessons have been focused on Serious Basics.  The deal is that I finally have enough of a seat to work on hands (this method does rein aids last) and all the things I used to do half-assed or wrong now need to be revised and corrected.  Yes, kind of like a very long ms. with a lot of drafts.  Capria is a stinker about this, between her conformation (long back with dip right under where I sit) and all the years of being ridden wrong, so she's been my main instructor, with Pook as her able assistant.

Pook is not a baby any more, Teacher has declared.  No more baby aids and gaits.  He needs to be ridden as we mean to go on: functionally straight (versus advanced straight, which Capria is working on and which takes a bit more experience than he's had so far), forward, and correctly bent through the body, with "true" gaits (no pacing in the walk) and good rhythm and relaxation.  He likes to lock up in the base of the neck, which considering how much neck he has, means life gets interesting when he Just Says No.  We found a way around that today, which was interesting in that I've seen references to it but only as a hand trick.  It only works if you have an educated seat.  The results were Loverly.  He really is wired to do this, he just needs to know what the specific signals mean and be strong enough to carry me while he's doing it. 

Of cuss I had a brief meltdown of the "Omigawd this is the best horse I've ever sat on in my life, wtf am I doing messing him up?" variety, but those kind of go with the territory.  Pook doesn't care what a loser I am.  I'm his loser.

Camilla has been Suffering In Silence.  Feelgood Lady is finally planning to come and work on her this week.  Then she can learn to be a Ridin' Hoss.  She was particularly nasty two weeks ago when I took her out for walkies in a bit of weather and she lost it.  She blew up, whirled, kicked me in the upper thigh and knocked me down, then took off.  Broke a thick cotton leadrope in half in the process.  I had to pick myself up, trudge after her, then kill her.

Killing did not involve physical contact.  It involved me planting myself in front of her and stating firmly, "If you ever, ever want me to ride you again, you won't even think about doing anything like this ever, ever again."

Not the usual approach toward one's horse, but this is Camilla.  She went quietly back with me to the place where she blew up, then we carried on from there.  She's been pondering the situation since.  I have a nice big bruise to remember her by, but no problems apart from being Really Really Sore 24 hours later.

What was fascinating was that the next day,  connerybeagle 's mom was visiting (Ephiny wanted to keep her) and I was telling her all about the incident, and as I finished, Camilla slipped in between us and parked.  We looked at that broad back and said, "She's ready to ride!"  Just allofasudden, she looks like the deck of an aircraft carrier--ready for landing.

She really does not look like any other horse I've seen.  She's a Flying Cube.  Very massive and round, and every inch of it is pure power.  I wanna ride it!

So, as soon as the chiro vet checks her out, we'll start lining up the fighter jets.

Which we hope will be this week. Please Gawd.