Holding on to good
Today in good things, my biggest girl made a tiny, sassy new friend.
I'm delighted to report that it happened! Fabes met a teeny teacup poodle just as sassy as Peri from Pandora Strain -- and of course they're now friends.
My spicy, giant girl (who is now being told she's senior by the vet, can you believe it? I'm not sure I can handle the silver on her muzzle!) doesn't make friends easily. But Fabes and Smol George hit it off. They tore it up at the park and my behemoth was so careful where she put her monster paws while they were playing.
Totally different dog sizes. All dog joy.
It was great. Now, did I want Smol George eating Fable's goober off her face? Nope. Not really. I could have done without that particular part. But the rest was great!
And I'm not going to lie, this meeting of fuzzy souls is one of the things giving me hope right now. I'm working hard to hold onto all of those things at the moment. Small things. Brief things. Whatever it is that reminds me that, for all the horror in the world right now, there's also:
The fiery gleam of the morning sun on the snow-covered mountains.
The glint in my senior puppy's eyes just before she pounces on her stuffed troll.
The way my niece has decided Auntie will paint a rainbow mural across her entire bedroom (she's right, Auntie Dee is down for giant rainbows).
Oh, and how my editor adored my first round of test chapters... and then yelled at me for more.
There's a song by a storytelling band in North Carolina called Delta Rae that's literally called "Holding On To Good" and it's been in my head a lot lately. Honestly, it's not the happiest song. It's about mourning a relationship that ended, about charting a new course while carrying warm memories of what had been.
Maybe that's why it's hanging in my thoughts.
It's been a hard couple weeks for Canadians, and my entire nation's relationship with our closest ally and neighbor has been shaken. (If you're in the States, you might have no idea what I'm talking about. I recommend checking out CBC News or another international news outlet to get the full story).
I was wondering how I could continue my zombie books in the face of... this. Then I had sushi with my Writing Wife (aka long term crit partner). While stuffing ourselves silly, I poured out all my angst about writing American-centric military fiction in the midst of this crisis. How can I be all "Hoo-rah" with a my specialized, Grey-trained SEALS vs zombies in LA now?
My very wise Writing Wife said: You're not writing news, Dee. You're writing a fantasy.
Of course, Writing Wife is right.
I'm writing an imaginary version of the world's best self after a devastating event, where Canada and the States pull together and send a joint task force in search of the truth.
It's the same reason that the ending of Three Days In Undead Shoes remains the most meaningful set of chapters I've ever written.
Because in the face of overwhelming fear, I need to believe we can choose hope.
(If you haven't read this yet, my apologies for any spoilers. Also, the book is still free as I forgot to fix the price, so snag it quick.)
And... Fabes just propped her chin on her rear and groaned dramatically at me, so that's clearly enough introspection for one day. (Apparently there's only one drama queen allowed in this house, and it's absolutely the furry one.)
Happily, after sushi and sage advice, I'm ready to get back to writing. I've got one book experiment done (three whole chapters of Brand New Story!) and am working away on more. It might take a bit, but I'm really hoping to have something to share with you next time.
Until then, take care of yourselves. And if you need a smile, know that last night my dog farted so loudly she woke herself up from a (surely dramatic) dream.
Luv,
Dee