flax-golden tales: secret wishes of stuffed tigers

secret wishes

secret wishes of stuffed tigers

The kids that play outside make fun of the tiger in the window simply because it is there, and thus fodder for amusement.

Stupid fluffy baby toy.

And the tiger cannot move from the window, so it is forced to watch and listen. It accepts their taunts with unblinking plastic eyes.

The neighbor glares from her window across the way. It is impossible to tell if she glares at the children or the tiger or both.

The tiger doesn’t mind. The tiger is patient.

It knows that if it wishes hard enough, someday it can be a real tiger.

Then they’ll be sorry.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

tales from the revisionland hotel

I’ve been missing in action because I’ve been sequestered in the Revisionland Hotel.

It’s a lovely place, really. The bar is lively and full of characters and complimentary beverages of questionable content. Room service brings pens and paper, chocolate and caffeine.

I’ve been here so long I started managing the place. I wish I was kidding.

But really, I knew I was going to have to rip my manuscript apart and rework it heavily in November.

I took November off to write the first draft of a different novel.

I took December mostly off because it was holiday-ridden and cold.

I started working on it, really working on it and not just thinking about it and jotting down notes, in January.

It’s going to be done tomorrow. This is not an April Fool.

I still have a few things to change and I think I need to adjust the end a bit, but it’s novel-shaped again and I think it’s shaped like a better novel than it was before, but I need some second opinions.

Sometime tomorrow this massive overhaul of a revision will be sent off to the wonderful world of beta readers.

Once they have it I think I’ll be hanging out in the Hotel bar for awhile.

flax-golden tales: seasonal technicality

seasonal technicality

seasonal technicality

The equinox has come and gone but winter didn’t seem to pay it any mind. Perhaps it likes it here and wants to stay. An extended holiday.

So there are no singing birds. No crocuses pushing up anxiously through the dirt.

Not yet.

The ground is still mostly frozen and boot-crunchy underneath the leafless sketchbook trees.

Bare branches reaching for blue sky.

Longing for spring.

When technically it’s already here, as far as the movement of the sun is concerned.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

bucket in spring

Today is Bucket’s birthday. She is seven years old.

Normally she is an equinox baby, but this year the equinox was yesterday. Maybe that’s why she was so cranky about letting me take birthday photos.

bucket age 7

I tried. I did. She would not look at the camera no matter how I pleaded and waved things. I think she was shunning me because I brushed her first.

Ah well. She is not as much of a camera lover as her sister, but she’s still a pretty princess.

bucket age 7 closeup

Happy Birthday, fluffiest of Fluffy Buckets!

flax-golden tales: fairy trap

fairy trap

fairy trap

All you need to catch a fairy is an old birdhouse and some shiny stuff. You know, like glass and glitter, or pieces of colored plastic or metal things that’ll sparkle when the sun hits them.

You can paint the birdhouse, but it doesn’t really matter what color. It’s not like how hummingbirds like red things, fairies aren’t that picky.

So you take your birdhouse and shiny stuff and just hang it somewhere. High but not too high. Trees are good but fairies are everywhere so trees aren’t like, a requirement.

You don’t even need to put anything over the birdhouse entrance. Once they get in they won’t be able to figure out how to get out.

Fairies are kind of stupid.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

more about cookies than LOST

The boy and I are LOST junkies, but you knew this.

We have a little bit of a bet going this season, regarding the identity of a certain character’s ex-wife.

This is the wager:

milanos

If I’m right, I get the entire bag of Milanos.

If I’m wrong, he gets the entire bag.

Why Milanos, you ask? Because earlier this season in a relevant episode a character opens a bag of Milanos and only takes one cookie. Seriously, who does that? Only one Milano? Milanos are like, cookie heaven. You take the entire shelf if you’re not going to just succumb to eating the entire bag. One solitary Milano cookie is a sad, sad thing.

The only problem is we have no idea when the answer will be revealed. We’re probably going to have to hide the bag.