Remember The Cat?

Maybe not. But when we were looking for a place to stay in Galway, I eventually narrowed it down to two places — one advertising a cat and one not.

The cat won.

And when we got there, it turns out he wasn’t real.

Well, I suppose the cat is real, but he doesn’t live there. He has a tapestry counterpart who is enormous. And the non-tapestry cat’s photos are there. But HE is NOT.

I was disappointed. I realize that realistically “boutique hotels” cannot provide cats for all their guests. I know a B&B in Minnesota that does, but that’s not the same thing. AND it’s a B&B. And it is Minnesota. And Ballyvolane had Archie, of course, which made up for it.

Still . . . it was a sad moment of truth — rather like discovering there is no Santa Claus. Sigh.

But even though the lack-of-cat was a disappointment, the choice of hotel was not. It was a lovely place. Very posh. AND it wasn’t right above the streets where all Friday and Saturday night the revelers with their Drinks stood around and made a lot of noise.

The other hotel, it turns out, was. You’ll have to imagine them here because I took these photos on Sunday morning when it was dead quiet.

Still, it didn’t take me long (about a single split second, if that) to decide that we had gone to the right place — and while I’m sure the other hotel was fine, this lack-of-cat one was quieter.

The cat, wherever he was, would have approved.

We arrived there on Friday. Saturday morning we left Kate and her husband to their own devices and we took a day trip to the burren and the cliffs of Moher. When I told Kate we wanted to go, she visibly shuddered and said, “You’re not getting me anywhere near that again! Even lying flat on the ground I still thought I was going to fall off.”

Not being one with a great love of heights, I wondered what I was getting into. But “progress” has spend something like 31 million Euros to gussy up the approach to the cliffs of Moher. Kate wouldn’t have to worry now. It’s all very civilized. They apparently wanted to charge admission, but were prohibited by law. Hooray, law, is all I can say.

The cliffs themselves are spectacular — like looking at the Grand Canyon. I’d seen so many photos, it was hard to think I wasn’t just looking at another one — in 3D. But the sound of the waves breaking against them was impressive. And the fact that we got a fabulous, reasonably warm, very sunny day was definitely God’s gift to us. The coach driver said many times he brings groups of people up who can’t see a thing for the rain and fog.

We marveled at the cliffs, then also at the burren, the rocky limestone outcroppings that make the landscape in this area of County Clare almost lunar in their inhospitality. I can’t imagine anyone thinking they could plant anything here and have it grow. Well, obviously some things do — there is even a species of orchid that grows amid the rock. But I wouldn’t want to have to make a living there, I can tell you that.

We got to visit a limestone cave that descends beneath the burren. And for all that the landscape above didn’t even remotely resemble where we live, we are blessed with an abundance of limestone caves along the Mississippi River. Ours are every bit as amazing — or even more so — than the one we visited there. It was interesting to see how similar the subterranean landscape was since on “ground level” things were totally different.

We also got to take some pictures of Clarin Bridge, County Galway for a friend whose family emigrated from there to England and a generation later to New York. Two years ago I took pictures of the village of Bole in Nottinghamshire for her and sent them to her. Now I’m adding photos of Clarin Bridge. It was one of those places without much topsoil and a lot of rock. They must have thought Nottinghamshire was the breadbasket of the world after that!

I’m happy to report that FINALLY Flynn seems to be cooperating.

At least he didn’t stalk off and refuse to do anything today. He’s about to dismantle a coffee shop in his impatience. But that’s progress. Michelle Styles says I’m having trouble because James Purefoy is my Flynn inspiration and he’s difficult to get a handle on. Good idea. Blame it on James.

We’re expecting another blizzard. Maybe while it’s raging outside I can get Flynn moving two days in a row. Maybe he’ll wreak mayhem in the coffee shop.

It wasn’t in the synopsis. But then the best things rarely are.

I’ll get back to Ireland tomorrow.

Today I want some advice. When we were discussing “world-building” on eharlequin the week before I left for the Emerald Isle, I explained my rather rudimentary method of keeping track of who was where and doing what in my Code of the West series.

There were 16 books by the time I wrote A Cowboy’s Christmas Miracle, and in fact, besides the connections between one and another of those, they also connected sporadically to my Quicksilver books (Charlie Seeks Elk, hero of A Cowboy’s Promise was the sixteen year old troublemaker in Gifts of the Spirit, the last Quicksilver book I did for Harlequin American). And Mariah Kelly, heroine of Rhys’s Redemption, a Harlequin Presents, interviewed cowboy turned actor Sloan Gallagher, who later went on to become the hero of The Great Montana Cowboy Auction.

Suffice to say, I had to do something to make sure I didn’t send Charlie to Afghanistan when he should have been on the streets of L.A. and I didn’t send Taggart Jones’s daughter Becky to high school when she was ten.

After five books in the series, no longer able to keep it all in my head, I consulted with my editor who tried to help, and several other people who were — and still are — far wiser than I when it comes to computer stuff. I knew I needed to create a database or a spreadsheet or whatever I might need to be able to pull all these people out in whatever form I needed them in. But no one could suggest how to do it.

So I ended up with a simple timeline that began at year ZERO, which was when Cowboys Don’t Cry began, and I counted back 34 years, to the year its hero, Robert Tanner, was born, and I wrote -34: Robert Tanner born in Colorado. Then I wrote -30: Maggie MacLeod born. . . And then I began adding in Tanner’s brothers and any events that happened while they were growing up and when he got married and all the various “events” in the plot.

I wrote everything that happened in that book in hot pink. Then I put the events from Luke and Jill’s book, Cowboys Don’t Quit, in using deep gold. Noah and Tess’s book was dark purple. Taggart’s was navy blue. Jed’s was forest green.

As the books moved forward I added +1, +2, +3, until by Deke’s book (emerald green. I was running out of color variations after 16 of them) I was up to +12. It worked, but it was getting unwieldy. And the reason I’m bringing it up is two-fold 1) I’m writing Flynn and Sara now, which is a Code of the West book in a different cover (Harlequin Presents) and so I need to be sure everything meshes, and 2) I’ve recently discovered some software that I think might be what I was originally looking for.

The software is called Tinderbox, from Eastgate, developed by Mark Bernstein. And from what I can see of the way it works, it could do everything I wanted my timeline to do and more. It is a Mac program. I do Windows (literally and figuratively). A Windows version is in the works. I guess I can wait.

But in the meantime, I’m wondering if anyone has any good ideas for other software to keep these folks sorted. (Or good ideas for buying a Mac cheap)

The book will go on even without it. But it would be nice to have the timeline and event sheet in a less cumbersome form. Right now it is beginning to remind me of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

I am curious if anyone has discovered any equally promising software for such projects. Jenny Crusie mentioned Scrivener on her blog recently — also (sigh) a Mac program. Anyone else?

Anyone?

Well, let me know. I need to get back to work. Wondering why I’m starting this book over. Well, no. Actually not wondering. Knowing. I’ve started from the wrong point of view. Again. And the wrong place. Again.

After this many books you’d think I’d realize, wouldn’t you? Maybe it isn’t software I need. Maybe it’s a new brain.

Wriggle is a wonderful hostess.

She had other duties around the house, I’m sure, but she took her responsibility for showing us around very seriously indeed. And she didn’t want us to miss a thing.

Sadly, because of time constraints and enough rain to turn the normal trickle into something rather broader, faster and deeper (without wellies), we didn’t visit the donkeys. But not because Wriggle didn’t try.

She thought we were pretty wimpish not to just plunge in and walk straight across the stream. She did it — half a dozen times at least. In fact she stood in the middle of it and stared at us with disgust.

But we had to be in Dublin that afternoon to turn in the car, so we decided to save the donkeys for next time.

That way, we promised ourselves, there would be a next time. We certainly hope there will be one.

After all Trish Morey has indicated she’d like to join the Expeditionary Force next time we invade. You’re very welcome, Trish! Maybe you can bottle a bit of the rain and take it home with you. They’ve plenty.

As pictures are worth at least a thousand words apiece (Hmmm. . . I wonder if my editor would let me substitute about 20 or so for the words I haven’t written yet?), I’ll let them speak todau while I go off to deal with Flynn and Sara and — I hope — get them moving on their way again. Maybe they’ll catch a glimpse of these and feel inspired.

Me, sitting in the front parlour waiting for Wriggle to begin our tour.

First she showed us the piano and Archie’s favorite sofa . . .or is it a chesterfield? Or . . .

Clearly antique furniture pieces are not my forte.

The front parlor fireplace.

Archie who came in and took over his favorite spot in the front parlour did NOT want to be disturbed. So we left him in peace and moved on.

We peeked into the dining room.

Then pushed open the door . . .

Next we went upstairs to our room overlooking the front drive and lake. We’d show you Kate’s but maybe she’d prefer to do that. If not, I’ll do it later.

A glimpse out the window made Wriggle decide we’d seen enough inside. We needed to go out and experience her domain first hand — or paw.

First we went around the farm buildings.

John Deere has joined the Expeditionary Force! I think Liam will recognize that little tractor at once.

Wriggle stopped briefly to give a pop quiz on house and garden history to Kate Walker’s husband aka The Babe Magnet. She also got a piece of bread. Clever Wriggle.

After the farm buildings, she showed us inside the fifteen-foot high walled garden.

A look at the wall from between two hedges. When they’re in bloom maybe I can figure out what they are. I asked Wriggle. She didn’t know.

She showed us the dovecote. But frankly she didn’t think they were very impressive. She gets free run of the place. They have to stay under their net.

There were LOTS more things she would have showed us . . . but unfortunately our time had run out.

We left her surveying her domain, waiting for more guests to show around its delights. Lucky Wriggle. I thought about her a lot today while I was out shoveling 10 inches of snow!