Here's What You Missed...

Wow, it's...uh...been a while since I've updated!

I shoved aside most of my other writing commitments in order to focus on getting my novel done, and I'm pleased as punch to say that I did it! Back in early July I told the Husband that I would finish my novel - approximately 75,000 words - by our son, the Juban Princeling's birthday, which is October 8. That would be 5,000 words per week over 15 weeks. And I did it, with a week to spare, even!

Sometimes it was hard, sometimes the words flowed, but the important thing, I think, is that I have a first draft of a novel. This is something I've been trying to write for the past 10 years. I have more first chapters of this damn book than I can even think about, so I feel satisfied that I've finally made it all the way through.

People often ask me what my book is about, and the short, easy (but mostly wrong) answer is: vampires.

The longer, more complicated, and more correct answer is that this is a book about the friendship between two supernatural women (one a Lithuanian witch, one a Japanese vampire) who have traveled the world together for over 500 years and now find themselves facing an increasingly terrifying enemy. Can they survive the devastation and horror around them, even as their own darker impulses start to take over their friendship?

Hmmm, I think I have my 30-second blurb there...

The first draft of my novel is now in the hands of my Alpha Readers, four people close to me that are familiar with the genre and know me well enough to be brutally honest about my take on it. While they work on that, I'm reading and doing the writing exercises from "Self-Editing for Fiction Writers" by Renni Browne and Dave King, making a spreadsheet of potential agents to query, and devouring other dark/urban fantasy books. Some are by authors I'm already a fan of (Lori Devoti, Ilona Andrews, Kelly Armstrong) and others are established authors in the genre that I'm "meeting" for the first time and, so far, thoroughly enjoying (Patricia Briggs, Kim Harrison, Kat Richardson).

The next step for me will be to revise my manuscript based on "Self-Editing" and the feedback from my Alpha Readers, then send a second draft to my five Beta Readers: three are familiar with the genre, one is doing line edits, and the fifth person is a longtime friend who will, again, be brutally honest with me. When they are done, I'll make more revisions, and then, hopefully, have a polished draft ready so I can begin the query process for an agent.

It's a lot of work, but I have to admit that I am really enjoying this! I get to read my favorite books by amazing authors (as "homework"), and I finally have a finished product to tinker with and prep for submission! After 10 years I finally feel like I've written the story that was meant to come out of me.

And, I already have plans in the works for the book's sequel, as I intend for this to be the first of a trilogy, which will (hopefully) be the jumping-off point for a larger series starring some of the other characters, ala Kelly Armstrong's Otherworld series or Lori Devoti's Amazon series.

Meanwhile, in non-writing news, the Juban Princeling turned 2 years old a couple of weeks ago...I know. I KNOW! I KNOW!!!! How that happened, I have no idea. Wasn't he JUST born?

He's doing so great, though. His pediatrician would not stop gushing over him at his 2-year checkup last week. He's still in the 90-95th percentile for height (he's a full 36" tall now) and 50th for weight, which means he takes after the men on my mother's side of the family: tall and lanky. His favorite word is "No!", which I know is normal for 2-year olds, but he is nevertheless an overall sweet, agreeable little boy. He loves to feel helpful and loves to do what we do. He chatters up a storm, even if we can only understand every tenth word he says. When we call my husband while he's at work, the Princeling loves to tell his dada about his day so far.

I'm so happy that my little boy is so happy and healthy. And, thankfully, he's also very independent. Sometimes I feel like a bad mommy at the end of the day, turning on the TV and letting him play by himself while I sit on the couch and read "Self-Editing" or one of my fantasy novels. But then I remember that the two of us just spent the whole day together, going to music classes or the playground or a playdate at one of his many friends' houses, and that he, too, needs his "alone" time when I'm not up in his face making him do this or go there. I'm so lucky to have a little boy who is so independent and content to entertain himself.

And I'm so lucky to have such a wonderfully supportive and loving husband, and so many wonderful friends who are all eager to help me out in my crazy writing career!

Love Hurts

Yesterday morning I took my son, the Juban Princeling, to a nearby playground. I was actually quite looking forward to our day together, as it would be the last day of just us two for a while: today he has daycare, and tomorrow my parents fly into town for a week.

The Princeling was engaging in his favorite activity, swinging a gate back and forth. I bent down to pull up his pants, which were falling down, and he swung the gate, hard, into my head. Stunned for a second, I reached up to touch the tender spot where the gate had made contact, and my fingers came away covered in blood. I stuffed the Princeling into his stroller, called his daycare babysitter, and ran him to her. He was happy enough to be there. I then walked myself to the nearby emergency room, where, 2 1/2 hour later, I walked out with a tetnus shot in my left arm and two staples in my scalp:

It's exactly as painful as it looks.

I picked up the Princeling on my way home. Despite what my father said on the phone about my son being wholly unaware of what he had done to me, I considered pressing assault charges.

My mom: "For what, elder abuse?"

Hardee har har.

When we got home I cut off my hospital wrist band and taped it to the Princeling's baby book with a little description of what happened. This way I can use this as guilt-trip fodder for the rest of his natural life.

Happy 21-Months, Juban Princeling!

I can't believe this happened 21 months ago - and that in just three more short months I'm going to have a 2-year old on my hands!

I love you, little boy, so very much. You are the best son a mother could ever ask for.

Healing, and Growing

Meatloaf Face, Day 5:

"This had better be important, Mom. You're interrupting my Elmo time."

The hubby and I are amazed at the speedy healing powers of toddlers. If either of us got hurt like this on our face it would take MONTHS to heal. I've been putting anti-biotic ointment on his nose and forehead four times a day, and that seems to be helping the process along. I'm glad - it's hard to look at him without my heart breaking. But the Princeling is a trooper, and doesn't even seem to be aware of anything wrong.

Elsewhere in the Lopez household, my herb garden is really coming along!

Tarragon, planted from seeds in April.

Oregano, planted from seeds in April.

And then I did that thing on Facebook where I made it look like my face was painted to support the U.S. team in the World Cup:

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

And then my brother-in-law, The Professor, pointed out that it looks like I've turned myself into a Tea Partying ultra-conservative, because the right has pretty much co-opted all things patriotic, including our national flag. Well, I'm just not having that: I'm a liberal AND a patriot. I believe in reproductive freedom, gay marriage, welfare, health care reform, and I LOVE MY COUNTRY!

So, feeling patriotic, I bought some little American flags at Target, 3 for $1.99. (Made in the U.S.A.!) I put one between my two lavender plants.

So there.

Phantom of the Playground

This is what the Princeling looked like upon waking up this morning:

"My mom calls me Meatloaf Face."
(And yes, that's his thermometer he's playing with.)

Since we live in a pedestrian city and therefore we walk everywhere, we got a lot of stares this morning on the way to daycare. People's general reaction to seeing this on such a little boy was a combination of horror and pity, as if I was pushing Quasimodo in the stroller. As we walked out of the elevator and our upstairs neighbor walked in - our neighbor whose dog the Princeling is in love with and plays with - he said, "Oh my god, is he OK?" I said that yeah, he's fine, just ate some sidewalk yesterday, as kids do. The neighbor got onto the elevator with a look that clearly said he was keeping an eye on me and had the Department of Child Services on speed dial.

Meanwhile, today while I was out I took a photo of the spot where the Princeling fell yesterday:

The scene of the crime.

This is on the north side of 10th Street between 7th Ave and 6th Ave, in front of the first brownstone closer to 7th. The Princeling was running from the top of the photo area to the bottom. It slopes down, so he gained a lot of momentum from running, and that uneven part where the two pieces of sidewalk meet is a good 2 inches or so. When you're only 20 months old that's a huge gap, and so he lost his footing and fell face-first. Poor little guy.

I'm working on finding out to whom I should complain about this. I love the trees here, but the roots are killing the sidewalks and this is a real hazard.

I Was In the Sh*t, Man!

I love our neighborhood, Park Slope. It's family-friendly to a fault, Prospect Park is awesome, and we are never lacking for playdates and fun things to do.

However, the sidewalk situ here leaves much to be desired. The sidewalks are broken and uneven and a total hazard. Today I let the Princeling run down 10th Street from 7th Ave to 6th Ave and the downhill slope gave him momentum, and then he tripped over some broken sidewalk. He landed on his face, and after some kisses and bloody-nose wipe-ups from me, we kept going. The scrapes on his head didn't seem bad enough to warrant a trip to the pediatric ER, and within minutes he was back to himself, running along 6th Ave and playing with gates and such.

"Do I have something on my face, or something?"

Once we got home and I cleaned him up he looked much better. His forehead was barely scraped but very bruised. The tip of his nose and just below his right nostril were pretty bloody, but once cleaned up they made him look like he had a bad cold. It would be funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking for me to look at.

I called the pediatrician just to be on the safe side. The nurse I spoke with told me to watch him for the next 24-48 hours for any changes in behavior, and whenever he goes to sleep to make sure I can rouse him 10 minutes later. Well, his behavior is fine. We got home and he danced to Yo Gabba Gabba, colored, and ran around the kitchen floor as usual. When I went to rouse him from his nap he didn't quite wake up, but he's always been a deep sleeper. He did open his eyes and close them again, and kept moving away from me in his sleep. Since that's normal for him I'm going to go ahead and say that he's a-ok.

My nerves, on the other hand, are shot. This whole incident is reason # 4,692 why I drink.

Where the Orange Blossoms Grow

We arrived in Florida on Saturday after a blessedly uneventful flight with the Princeling. He was clearly tired but couldn't get comfortable in our row. Still, he was a champ and didn't have any meltdowns. He colored with his crayons - and, yes, I let him color the window shade and tray table in front of him because the airline was a total ripoff and didn't have pillows or blankets and charged for water - and climbed up and down the seats. Half an hour before landing he fell asleep in his father's arms:


Once in Florida we rented a car with a toddler seat, despite Florida law that practically allows newborns to wear only an adult seatbelt. We stripped the Princeling down to his diaper and flip-flops because Florida is one giant swamp and we didn't want him to melt. We drove through a McDonald's and gave the Princeling some fries and felt very South Florida - here's some fast food for our almost-naked toddler! Yee-haw!


So far so good down here. The Princeling seems to really enjoy it here, though mostly indoors - outside he walks two steps then demands to be carried. In West Palm he only napped in the car, but here at my parents' in Miami he seems to be napping well in the rent-a-crib my parents got for him. And his night sleeping is excellent. His first night here he slept 14 hours! He's terrified of the ocean but loves the pools. He learned how to play catch with his bisabuelo (my hubby's grandfather) in West Palm, and was the absolute star of the show at my grandma's retirement community. We bought him a floating lobster for the pool that he loves, and my parents are by far his favorite people on the planet for whom he goes down to sleep with no issues and eats without fighting them. At this rate we'll probably just leave him here when we return to NY on Saturday.