Thursday, March 21, 2013

Plague-Written


I really don't intend to spend a lot of time talking about my personal life here, but I feel like a bit of explanation is warranted on this occasion. I just took a couple of weeks off from blogging while I was moving and now I took another impromptu leave of absence without really giving you much of anything in terms of content in between. Not the best method for building up a new blog, but sometimes Life Happens.

In the real world I'm a stay-at-home mom. I have two small children and I get to spend every waking moment of every single day with them. I'm lucky that way. (If you have small children yourself, or even just some basic experience with small children, you might be rolling your eyes right now. But I ask that you please notice that last sentence doesn't specify good luck. Just luck.)

Long-Suffering Husband, on the other hand, gets to leave the house five days a week to go to his office. While I have absolutely no desire to do his job, the leaving the house for 9-10 hours a day does sound appealing sometimes. But I know that's really just a wishful, wistful little idea. Because working in an office comes with, in my opinion, an utterly maddening job. And its own forms of luck.

For example, isn't he lucky to be surrounded by 6000 or so people in the middle of cold and flu season? Don't be fooled by those soothing taupe hallways and not-plush industrial carpeting; office buildings are more like giant Petri dishes than productive adult workspaces. Truthfully I'm only surprised it took him two months to bring home a nice strong cold bug and share it oh-so-generously with the rest of us.

Now in a household with children one person doesn't get sick. We ALL get sick. The germs are everywhere. There's no escape. If you have very good luck, everyone will be sick all at once and all any of you will want to do is lie down and snooze/watch television all day until everyone is better.

You rarely get such obliging germs though, and the end result is that everyone is in one stage of sick or another all the time, passing the bug around like a particularly snotty version of hot potato, and it pretty much feels like no one is ever going to get better and nothing is ever going to be clean ever again.

So, we've been working our way through this cold for the last couple of weeks. I'm still a little congested and the baby's nose is still running like a faucet 24/7, but I think we might finally be seeing the back of it. Which is good, because we're supposed to be going on vacation next week and I'd really hate to introduce this bug to all the other vacationers spending the upcoming holiday week in the Borscht Belt.

All ten or so of them. The Borscht Belt isn't quite as popular as it once was. At least not outside Long-Suffering Husband's family anyway. Still, it's probably best if we all just get better beforehand.

Turning back to the fictional world for a while, I should probably mention that I did have a writerly epiphany while in the midst of this endless parade of fussiness and phlegm. I'm changing the venue for my WIP. I'd originally set it in Philly, because I lived there for five years some time ago and hated it thoroughly. If you can't use your fiction to turn the city you hated living in into a demon-infested hellhole, what really is the point of it all?

Alas, it occurred to me somewhere amid all the decongestant-haze that enough years had passed since I lived in the City of Brotherly Love as to make it impossible to realistically ground a novel there without visiting it again to make sure the details hadn't changed in my absence. Since that sounded about as fun as a natural appendectomy, I decided to move the whole story to my current hometown.

Chicagoland is already home to my favorite wizard, a charming bunch of vampires, and a few very nice shapeshifters. Why not throw my litter of familiars into the mix?

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