GONNA PARTY LIKE IT'S 1987

My brother turned the big 3-1 over the weekend; before the Schindler shindig, I found this bottom-of-the-shoebox pic of his big 0-9 at Skateland. (Brother John’s third from the left, in the striped shirt, and I’m on the far right—yes, and actual picture of moi—in that radical penguin T.)




My piano / guitar students have been informing me for years that skating parties are passé, blasé, and in no way cool. But does this photo not prove them ALL wrong? I mean, the skates with the neon orange wheels! The music—Tears for Fears practically oozes off this picture! The arcade—Tag Team Wrestling? Yes, please!

Ah, the 80’s…I swear, if I could only get my Big Wheel back (a green mode of transportation!), I’d be SOOOO happy…

YES, ACTUALLY

I, Holly Schindler, took a weekend (GASP!!!). Okay, so I took it with a notebook. And so I had the first chapter of the current book I’m revising tucked under the cooler in the backseat. And so I worked out a plan to revamp the start of that novel.

But: the point is, I turned the computer off and drove to an actual lake far from the sound of actual car engines and spent time in the actual sun. Barbecued ribs. Laughter. Stones skipping and pe-lunking across the skin of the water.

...I also really love checking in on my own favorite authors’ blogs to see their landscapes. To find out what the sunlight’s dancing off of when they wake in the morning: seashores, city blocks, mountaintops.

This is my landscape. Or a slice of it, anyway.

Yes, actually.

HARD-BOILED BABIES AND SOCK DRAWER MANUSCRIPTS

So you’re thinking: Good God A’mighty, Gertrude, what’s with all this talk of revision? Revision, rewrite, rework…re, re, re…Sure, the girl’s promised to be off and running on a new draft—but has she? Hmm? Has she started a single new project lately, or is she still revising old ones? More importantly: how many old projects can the girl possibly have?

Uh, well, um, a lot. And I mean. A lot. I’ve got manuscripts crammed in my sock drawer and the breadbox. The crisper in the Frigidaire. The glove compartment in the Mercury. They fall out of the linen closet when I reach for clean pillowcases.

I have, after all, been writing full time since ’01.

And sure, those books didn’t exactly work the first time around, but hey, I lost track of exactly how long this female cardinal attempted to build her nest at my house. First she tried the sill of my office window, then the porch light, then an awning, each time getting only about halfway through before the nest toppled from the too-small sill, or slid down the awning, or, okay, got destroyed by a do-gooding writer (that porch light gets so hot, it would have hard-boiled her babies, I swear). But she kept at it…and since I haven’t seen her in a while, I feel it’s safe to assume that she finally found the perfect answer to it all.

…And eventually, the same will be said of all my old manuscripts…

RED SKY AT NIGHT, WRITER'S DELIGHT

Okay, so this sunset's actually more gold than red, but the point is, I'm really pleased with the current OCEAN FLOOR rewrite I've been polishing up for Flux...

And I'm getting so close to an official title and cover art, the roots of my hair tingle!

...Stay tuned...