The current round, that is. Thanks to NaNo, I met my major goal, which was to get Santiago and Mawdlen's story, Captive of the Sea, down on paper. Also sent a few more queries for Out of the Water. But I've stalled on the editing, so my goals for next round will involve more of that, in better structured fashion. I might have to start doing some early morning rounds again; it's just so much easier to be productive earlier rather than later in the day, after work.
As for all the goals from the past year... back in January we posted yearly goals on the Compuserve Forum. I've met quite a few of mine:
Edit Rome, Rhymes and Risk. I did, but on paper. I haven't yet entered the edits on the MS...
Keep agent-hunting for Out of the Water. Ongoing.
Try to write another short story or two and submit them somewhere, and edit the darn plot bunny story already. Sort of done. Rejections.
Think about cutting back on blogging from three days a week to two. Done! My new schedule is awesome!
Knit more. Don't gain weight. Done. Ish. I love bread.
What have your goals and goal-making been like this year?
I've got a wee snip for the Romantic Friday Writers Challenge!
"For this Holiday Spirit blogfest, we are looking for excerpts involving fiction or non-fiction stories of family tradition, favorite/unique recipes, inspirational articles, etc.; that represent the essence of the holiday spirit."
To keep it short, I've knocked off the scene directly before this, wherein we find out that it's holiday time, and Baha bargains for some Turkish coffee (kahve) to share with his wife, Rosa. It's the 15th Century, and this is the first time either of them have tried coffee:
The inner door opened and she dropped her knife among the vegetables, poking her head round the kitchen arch. "You're late!"
Baha met her halfway down the corridor and encircled her in his arms.
"What's that smell?" She wrinkled her nose, sniffing at his cloak.
"Kahve." He produced a muslin wrapped package from his satchel and she took it from his palm.
The smell grew stronger, and she opened it to find a fine-ground powder, like semolina wheat but the colour of black beans. There was a strange contraption called a cezve that went with it, a sort of bowl the size of her palm, with a long handle.
"You hold it over the flame," Baha said, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen brazier. He grabbed a cup off the shelf. "A measure of water, and a spoonful or half a spoonful of the kahve, depending on how many cups you wish to make. I think there's enough there for two, if you’d like to taste it."
She filled the cup twice with water and poured it into the cezve at his direction, adding the ground kahve from the muslin.
"It comes from a bean," he explained, stirring the mixture with a spoon and holding the cezve over the fire. "I tasted some today that a merchant brought from Yemen, and he gave me the rest in exchange for my work."
"I suppose he thinks you'll buy more from him tomorrow."
"I might, at that. It has a strong flavour, like nothing I've ever tasted before." The liquid began bubbling on the surface and he poured some into each cup, enough to coat the bottom.
"Don't drink it yet," he cautioned. "It has to boil three times."
She watched as the kahve bubbled again, and again he poured a little into each cup. After the third time, he topped up the cups and set the cezve on the shelf. He clinked his cup against hers.
She peered dubiously at the murky liquid but took a tentative sip. The kahve warmed her tongue, bitter and sweet at the same time. A knock came at the door and as Baha went to answer, she tidied up the kitchen, finishing her kahve as she worked. The drink seemed to heighten her senses, so that the fire seemed warmer and she heard Baha's murmured words to the messenger from down the corridor.
Market in Turkey
Can't wait to see everyone else's snips!