Over this past weekend, I finished the rough draft for "A Wild Tiger's Heart". My husband, hearing me say something to a friend, thinks that I'm done with this book and won't be using the computer much for a while.
Silly man.
I came home after a long day at work, called my sister to get some insight on one of the countries she's visited, but that I haven't had the chance to see myself (and that plays into my story line), and then I started editing....much to hubby's disappointment when he walked in to find me on the computer.
I'm still trying to figure out why he gets all bent out of shape about me spending time on the computer, because when he got home and we had finished discussing how our days went, he fell asleep beside me while watching a television show that he was interested in, but I wasn't. I didn't change the channel. I got up and went back to editing.
I also edit when he's out fishing. Or when he's tying flies to go fishing. Or when he's watching videos about how to tie certain flies so he can make them in order to go fishing. Or when he's reading things like The Northwoods Sporting Journal about the things he can do and see when he isn't fishing.
In short, he likes fishing and I like writing. I think it's an equitable arrangement that he gets to have his hobby and I get to have mine. Until he gets grumpy about the computer thing and says things that he shouldn't about MY hobb
As I may have mentioned in another post, he and I met in 1980 and moved in together in 1981. It's been a couple of years since then, and most of the time, we get along quite well. The times we didn't get along in the early years was when he was listening to his mother say things like "Writing is a waste of time that could be better used doing other things" and accepting that her view of how life should be was the only way it could possibly be - even when he was rebelling against her himself. The times we still have issues is when he opens his mouth and his mother comes out.
I suppose I could be the good little wifey of the era when our parents grew up, listening to every word my husband says and obeying him like it's the law of the land.
Um, yeah. Like THAT is going to happen. Maybe if he'd married that submissive little gal that his mama liked so much because she wouldn't say "Boo".....
I'm not her.
So, as I wait for a Fedex delivery and putter around before going in for another day at the Staples Gym, where they pay me to lift heavy things and put them down (as opposed to the other gyms, that expect ME to pay THEM for allowing me to go in and use their equipment for my workouts), I'll be editing "A Wild Tiger's Heart". I'll be adding in some of the description from my sister and some friends I've already interviewed or will be soon about the countries my characters are visiting, but I never have. I'll be correcting the stupid things like I found last night in which I went back during the rough draft to change something, but didn't complete the task, like that sentence in which I wrote something like "She was enjoying the quiet her on her porch." (I'm still not sure which language the grammar correction app on my program thinks that's acceptable in, but suffice to say that the grammar correction app missed that one.)
And if you see my name on an arrest report for burning the room in my house where there is easily a few hundred dollars worth of fly tying equipment, I'll be editing in the jailhouse while I await my trial.
C'est la vie, as they say in France, which is one of the places my characters are going that I've never been....
Silly man.
I came home after a long day at work, called my sister to get some insight on one of the countries she's visited, but that I haven't had the chance to see myself (and that plays into my story line), and then I started editing....much to hubby's disappointment when he walked in to find me on the computer.
I'm still trying to figure out why he gets all bent out of shape about me spending time on the computer, because when he got home and we had finished discussing how our days went, he fell asleep beside me while watching a television show that he was interested in, but I wasn't. I didn't change the channel. I got up and went back to editing.
I also edit when he's out fishing. Or when he's tying flies to go fishing. Or when he's watching videos about how to tie certain flies so he can make them in order to go fishing. Or when he's reading things like The Northwoods Sporting Journal about the things he can do and see when he isn't fishing.
In short, he likes fishing and I like writing. I think it's an equitable arrangement that he gets to have his hobby and I get to have mine. Until he gets grumpy about the computer thing and says things that he shouldn't about MY hobb
As I may have mentioned in another post, he and I met in 1980 and moved in together in 1981. It's been a couple of years since then, and most of the time, we get along quite well. The times we didn't get along in the early years was when he was listening to his mother say things like "Writing is a waste of time that could be better used doing other things" and accepting that her view of how life should be was the only way it could possibly be - even when he was rebelling against her himself. The times we still have issues is when he opens his mouth and his mother comes out.
I suppose I could be the good little wifey of the era when our parents grew up, listening to every word my husband says and obeying him like it's the law of the land.
Um, yeah. Like THAT is going to happen. Maybe if he'd married that submissive little gal that his mama liked so much because she wouldn't say "Boo".....
I'm not her.
So, as I wait for a Fedex delivery and putter around before going in for another day at the Staples Gym, where they pay me to lift heavy things and put them down (as opposed to the other gyms, that expect ME to pay THEM for allowing me to go in and use their equipment for my workouts), I'll be editing "A Wild Tiger's Heart". I'll be adding in some of the description from my sister and some friends I've already interviewed or will be soon about the countries my characters are visiting, but I never have. I'll be correcting the stupid things like I found last night in which I went back during the rough draft to change something, but didn't complete the task, like that sentence in which I wrote something like "She was enjoying the quiet her on her porch." (I'm still not sure which language the grammar correction app on my program thinks that's acceptable in, but suffice to say that the grammar correction app missed that one.)
And if you see my name on an arrest report for burning the room in my house where there is easily a few hundred dollars worth of fly tying equipment, I'll be editing in the jailhouse while I await my trial.
C'est la vie, as they say in France, which is one of the places my characters are going that I've never been....
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