C.H. Valentino

...And why am I in this handbasket?!?

 

Lastnight, at about 230am I text a friend "I am the muthafuckin grand master of prose!"

 

Now, this wasn't really as egotistical as it sounds- I was just particularly pleased with the rewrite on this scene between Sam and Giacoletto.

 

(Dear Reader, tell no one else, but Giacoletto is SO my favorite.... *swoon*..... he represents so much of what I love in law enforcement as well as what I love in men. At first I thought that playing with his sexual preference is jsut another way of mugging the camera, but now- it's such an intigrated part of his personality, I can't see him in any other way.)

 

So, I had to text Lauren and she came to the house after work to hear the reworked scene. Thus,  I read her the orginal version, which she had heard before, and THEN I read her the new one. At which she just stared at me and shook her head and said, "I didn't see a problem with the first one, until you read the second one..."

 

And I'm all, I know-right? And she's all like, totally. And then I'm all for real....

 

*click-click- BOOM!*

 

So, I've been a bloggin' fool this week. Hell, I'm a writin' fool this week. My obsession makes it seem totally okay to sacrifice sleep for another hour of writing. So, far, no losses of life due to my lack of sleep. And I am swinging through chapter after chapter with break neck speed.

 

In the end it will all be worth it. I can sleep when I'm.... well...  do writers retire?

 

Item Two:

 

For those of you that read about my trip to California, you know I had a really time letting go and coming back. With the standing invitation to return, I have every intention of going for my birthday in July. Only this time, I'll be spending five days relaxing.

I'm having very odd dreams about L.A. And I woke up at about 6am this morning in the middle of a very strange mist covered dream of Gallery Row. I had been following the wake of one of my ex-boyfriends as he kept peeking over his shoulder at me. I could feel the heat in the city- taste the steam from the sewers and the rain on my face. I could hear the cars passing in the street, feel the slice of water across from their tires- but the curbs were too tall and there was a threat of slipping off into the asphlat void below. And Liberty kept whispering in my ears, "Can you keep up in a place so big, madame?"

 

And I woke up to my ceiling, panting and wanting to be in L.A. Panting and wanting to see the canyon. Panting and wanting...

 

.... some smart-ass somewhere is saying, jesus- bitch. Get thee a vibrator....

 

.... but I realized, too much sleep makes me miss it more. Too much sleep reminds me I'm not there. So, I'd rather write until I can be there. Write myself to get there. And I'll sleep when I get back to California.

 

CHV