Sophisticated Sunday

There is something so good about being surrounded by books and breathing in their musty smell. Something comforting about cuddling up in an old (and I mean very old) recliner with a warm spot of yellow light shining on you, just losing yourself in a novel.

I've read a lot since the beginning of the year (eighteen books) and I'm eight books ahead of schedule in my 2014 Reading Challenge on Goodreads. Woohoo! I haven't been writing as much as I should be recently....I'm trying to get back into my writing groove, but it's hard with Facebook, Pinterest, and all that awesome light stuff that's so easy to spend hours in. 

I have three WIPs (works in progress): Eye of the Phoenix (a novel), If I Fall (a novella which is slowly turning into a novel with the help of my speedy co-writer), and I Remember (working title for a short, few-thousand-words story based on a dream I had that I can't forget). 

Right now I'm focusing on getting I Remember done so I can have the scene fresh on paper and maybe come back to it later. The title is really temporary (I've gone through Isolation, Forgiven, etc. etc. It's frustrating when I can't find the perfect title). I might post all of it, or part of it, here when I'm done. Basically, the people in the dream just stuck with me the whole day and then I had to write it down, but the trouble is I have no idea what the major plot or setting would be if it turned into a whole book. 

Summarized though, the story is about this young mom (late teens to early twenties) who is hiding in a country (somewhere in Asia I think) with her young daughter who is about two years old. There is a war going on. One day, she takes her daughter out because the daughter wants to go outside really bad. The baby girls' dad is a prisoner of war or some such thing and the mom discovers him that day. I got the feeling that the dad had really betrayed the mom's trust in the past. He's sorry, she's hurt and very protective of her daughter. The dream ends with them surrounded by men with machine guns. Terrifying? Yes. Frustrating? Also, yes. Because I can't for the life of me remember the beginning and middle parts of the dream. So what do you think? Any title ideas at all? *looks at you with huge begging eyes*

READING: Not a Drop to Drink by Mindy McGinnis

LAST MEAL: Green Onion Pancakes with Egg Inside (we call them egg pancakes, other parts of the world call them scallion pancakes(?) or something just as weird)

WEATHER: FREEZING cold. 

ITEM TO MY RIGHT: A 0.5 black ink pen. My favorite kind!