Music, Magic, and Writing

For the first time in longer than I care to remember, I not only took a proper vacation this summer but actually spent two entire months away from home—specifically in western Massachusetts. It began as a family thing, but I don’t write about my family on the Internet, so you either know those details or will have to invent a story that pleases you. But whatever the original intent, the two months away morphed into a kind of writing vacation.

There were concerns, to be sure, especially since none of the places Sir Percy and I found to stay wanted to entertain a pair of cats along with their humans. That led to a fair amount of remorse and worries and so on. But in fact, the cats did just fine. They made new friends who were, for obvious reasons, more generous with the cat treats than Mom, and the person we hired to feed and generally take care of them did a wonderful job. Similarly, after various headaches caused by our not knowing the area and many would-be renters for every opening, we eventually lucked into a wonderful arrangement with a warm and welcoming couple who turned their son’s man cave into a lodging for us. (He took it well, for which we thank him!) Even my fear that I couldn’t manage without the huge piles of books in my office turned out to be exaggerated.

I spent some time editing other people’s fiction and a lot of time getting to know the latest adorable addition to the family. We attended classical and modern music concerts at Tanglewood every weekend and sometimes during the week. But I also had hours most days to work on my own novels, and as a result, I got Song of the Silk Weaver spiffed up and ready for its release on September 15, 2026 (more on that next week). In addition, I completed an entire second draft of Song of the Sleuth, which is not yet a properly structured historical mystery but is moving in that direction.

As if that were not enough for one seven-week period, I also did a ton of research on Tudor England and have managed to produce almost twelve thousand words of prose for Catch a Falling Star. Experience tells me that will double when I go back and fill in the missing bits, but until I get an actual story on the page, I don’t worry about that part. No novel of mine ever makes it to the publication stage without going through at least five drafts, and I’m sure the same will hold true for Falling Star. Since I can’t stick to an outline to save my life, there’s no point in getting the ducks to line up until I’ve figured out how many ducks I need and of which kind.

Of course, since we returned a week ago, I’ve done little besides separate out important mail from junk, get my computer files in sync, navigate an enormous to do list, convince the kitties we aren’t planning to leave again anytime soon, and restock the fridge, which we cleared before leaving.

I’m almost caught up now, though, so as soon as I clear that one last deck, I’ll be back to juggling Sleuth and Falling Star. Won’t that be fun? And if anyone knows where Queen Elizabeth I kept her stables at Whitehall in 1561, please pass that information along!

I’m almost caught up now, though, so as soon as I clear that one last deck, I’ll be back to juggling Sleuth and Falling Star. Won’t that be fun? And if anyone knows where Queen Elizabeth I kept her stables at Whitehall in 1561, please pass that information along!

As I got ready to publish this post, I realized it will go live on the 25th anniversary of 9/11. My first instinct was to rule it a poor match for the date, but the more I thought about it, the more I decided it should stay. Twenty-five years ago, we had just returned from a family wedding in Manhattan and welcomed another new kitten into our household. It was a gorgeous day, as bright and sunny as that first photo above. That was part of the horror: that tragedy could strike on such a perfect day.

Life goes on, even in the face of tragedy. We can’t prevent that—or ignore the reality that the world now contains many people too young to remember the Twin Towers and the other sites attacked that day. But we can bear witness, at least until we all pass into history. And as we do, let us also hope that everyone can someday experience the magic of sitting under the stars listening to a world-class orchestra and choir perform Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”

Images of the Tanglewood Shed and of the two cats © C.P. Lesley; Starry Night from Pixabay, no attribution required.