I had a busy day today. Woke up, had a bowl of cereal and then immediately went at it. Pulled everything down from the walls, wiped everything clean off the shelves. I dusted, wrapped, packed, and moved heavy furniture around and, oh, the difference... I miss seeing my life all around me; my memories, accomplishments, aspirations... but I do like the clean, the neat, the open... You can't tell I live here now, don't see me in the decour; my tangible identity has been boxed away and replaced with a plant. BUT, it looks good, and I'm becoming very okay with being stylish rather than ecleptic. It's all becoming real now. I took a break from cleaning and drove up to the house. I needed the screw gun and dad wanted pictures taken (which I was more than happy to do because of my new camera) ^.^ So I did that. It's looking amazing. The new picture is the fountain/pond in the corner of our living room. It's not finished yet, but doesn't it look like a resort??? My daddy did it (and I helped)! Anyway, dad says we should be moving in late February. That day is going to take forever to come, and on the other hand, it's going to happen so fast. When I was finally done with chores and walking up and down stairs with bags and furniture to put into the garage, I at last sat down and did something I haven't done in a very long time; I wrote. And I don't mean I opened up a document, added a few sentences or a paragraph or two, I mean I actually sat own and punched out a few good pages. God did that feel good. Larivant and Cameo are plunging into trouble early on and I'm having a tough time defining their relationship. They begin all soft and loving, but Cameo is quickly becoming and asshole and I can't quite figure out how to control him. I mean, he's the history buff, the smart-ass, the non-worrier however always pissed off. And Larivant, well, bless her heart she's so in love with Duty and Cause...ah, I know none of this makes sense. I just can't stop talking about the things that excite me and writing always excites me. I wish I could turn this series into a screenplay--it would make such a fantastic film--but I suppose I ought to focus on actually writing it first, eh? Get that story down...once again I'm writing Swiss Cheese; there are so many missing pieces to the plot. But I'm going back to the old way of writing with this one--no outline, no planning, just let it roll and let the characters do the talking. After all, I already know the ending, I just need to discover how they get there. Then I can begin the second chronicle where the story has already been started two, three times... I also added more on my other novel, the realistic one. I really love the characters in it; so sweet and Jacob is such a doll. Here I go again-please excuse me as I smile with my writing. I'm not yet at the troubling part and I'm writing in such a choppy, sloppy manner, jumping from scene to scene where a horrible beginning starts it all. I need to go back and fix that. But every day inspires me to add more to the Dalton's life. Life doesn't sit still, especially for a family of seven. I'm getting a good grasp on Reilly (she's turning out to be nothing as I had expected, but everything I need to make the story work), still trying to get to know Rachael (she hasn't had much of a part yet), and I love Rebekkah and Jamie (James). For the sake of history (and if anyone is really bored), I'm adding an excert from Under One Roof that I wrote tonight. It needs work of course, but I like the feeling of the scene. The fresh Word document stared vacantly at Jacob, the curser blinking and waiting impatiently for direction. After a long pause of careful thinking, Jacob's hands dropped over the keys and punched out a few sentences. After another long pause of careful thinking, his index finger nose-dived on the backspace and sat until the page was white again. Eventually, Jacob unplugged his laptop and carried it into the bathroom. He plopped himself in the bathtub and opened up the computer. For some reason, inspiration always caught him best in the bathroom. Jacob had just settled in the small bath, laptop sitting in a functional position on his lap and he cleared his head. Alright baby, fill me. He pleaded, closing his eyes. He didn't have to wait long before ideas and words flooded through his head and he struggled to pick out the good ones. He began to type fluently now, content in the direction the story was working towards. There was a knock on the door but Jacob ignored it; he stopped the flow of writing for nothing. The knob twisted and Rebekkah poked her head inside, "What are you doing?" "Writing," Jacob responded without looking up, his fingers still moving fervently across the keys, "Now close the door before she runs away." "Before who runs away?" "I can't say her name or she'll disappear. Close the door!" "Alright, alright!" Rebekkah did as she was told. She then pulled the toilet lid down and sat on it, looking down upon her brother with keen interest. "So what are you writing about?" Jacob paused his fingers and looked up at her. "Come here." He gave his head a jerk, inviting her into his magical bathtub. Rebekkah slid off the toilet seat and climbed into the tub, sliding easily in front of Jacob (although the two of them in the tub was a tight fit) as Jacob shifted the laptop to sit in her lap as his arms reached around her to reach the keys. She is inspiration, he typed. "Ooooh," Rebekkah turned her head and smiled at her brother, covering her mouth with her hands as if to keep the secret name locked inside her head. "So, why are you in the bathtub?" She had turned back to look at the screen, her brows furrowing a bit to read. Jacob sighed, "I don't know...she seems to like it in here. She tells me more when I'm in a bathroom." Rebekkah giggled, thinking of a very inconvenient time to be telling someone something good while they were in a bathroom, "What does she say?" "Well, I don't really know just yet. I just sit back and let her fill my head and I manage to type up a thing or two she hints at. She doesn't talk in simple English, you understand. It's all a bunch of images, colors, feelings, blurred faces and whispers from people I've not yet met." "Wow," Rebekkah breathed, mesmerized by her brother's magical connection to another world that was perhaps as fantastic as her own imaginary ones, but he was really able to see everything. "What is she telling you now?" she asked in wonder. "She's telling me that a certain young lady should be in bed." Jacob tickled Rebekkah's sides until she squirmed between his legs with giddy laughter. "Okay! Okay!" The little girl struggled to get away, careful as the laptop was moved and then clambered out of the tub. "Goodnight, Jacabob." She said when she got out. "Goodnight Rebby." His sister leaned over the edge of the tub and he kissed her cheek. "Don't forget to-" "I know," she cut him off, "close the door." Jacob smile, "I was going to say brush your teeth, but that too." He gave her a wink and she smiled a wide, jack-o-lantern smile before slipping out the door and shutting it tight behind her. In the tub, alone once again, Jacob sighed as he looked back to the document. Is it really worth keeping? Is any of this ever worth reading? He sat back and watched the curser continue to blink eagerly. Tomorrow, clean out and pack up closet and then clean the bathroom... Carrie Carrie