I'm about halfway through my WIP and can feel the rush of finishing. Almost there. Now, normally, I do the bulk of my writing on the weekends. This because after parking my hind parts in my office chair for more than 8 hours every day (albeit relatively cushy), the last thing I want to do is park it for another few hours each day to write. I've tried dragging the laptop to other areas of the house but I just can't seem to find a comfortable spot or one quiet enough.
The kitchen chairs are too hard and the spawnlings like to sit down across from me to munch on something loud and crunchy and ask, every few moments, "How many words do you have now?" - to which, I'd like to reply by eating them.
The couch is great for movie watching but I sit Indian style when I write. It's a fluffy couch. My legs tend to fall asleep after a while. So I fidget. And write. And fidget. And curse. And fidget. And then I usually give up the WIP to watch a movie instead.
I love my bed but, again, very soft and very fluffy. After about 30 minutes, my back starts to ache from laying on my stomach. And then I put my head down to "think" and fall asleep (because it's so luscious, my bed). I can't sit up in bed to write. It just doesn't work out.
I would leave the house to play with my words but I live in the Country. Yes, with a capital C. The nearest Starbucks is 25 minutes away. There's a Panera near there also but I'd be tempted to eat and if you've never seen the calorie content of Panera's offerings, maybe you don't want to ask. Ignorance was bliss. I asked. Their Cinnamon scones, alone, have more calories than a Big Mac. Seriously. They should name their little nutritional content book, Look At How Much Fat We Can Put In Our Food!
There are no coffee shops directly in my town (something I thought to remedy at one time but then decided I enjoy my paid vacations and sick time) so leaving home is sort of a wash. Well, there is one other spot... Down by the lake (15 minute drive) there is a boating dock next to a McDonald's and they have covered picnic tables. And it might work, if I could just get used to all the ducks coming for a look-see and then quacking their criticisms. Plus, guys in swim trunks with glistening tanned muscles who pull up in speedboats to get a snack? Distracting!
So, I have my weekends.
A mere 4 hours after I went to bed, just as the good dreaming parts hit my resting brain, Saturday arrived in the guise of a reenactment of D-Day. Umm, I should preface by saying I sleep like the dead. It's often been joked that one could set off a bomb near me and I would not even grumble and turn over. I would just lay there slack-jawed and, well, dead looking.
In order to wake up, I require the use of an alarm clock which has two separate alarms - one, a toe-curling buzz that enters the brain and takes up residence like a live hornet's nest and the other, the radio, set to the absolute loudest station I can find, causing me leap up and wonder if perhaps I was transported to the middle of a gang fight in L.A. while I slept. In addition to that - Yes, I actually require More - my cell phone is set to go off 30 minutes later, also set to the most annoying ring tone possible. Thus, I woke up Saturday morning... groggy, imagining gunfire, and thinking my bed had been invaded by hornets (and, if you've been reading here a while, you'll know what happens when I encounter buzzing things that Sting).
Normally, I have a fourth insurance policy for waking up - Mr. Clean, who cannot stand all of my alarms. Alas, I woke to find Mr. Clean had abandoned me for the fluffy couch and Fox News. Except, the fluffy couch sang its Siren Song to him. Doing my Saturday morning Lurching-Zombie-Shuffle, I found him happily snoring away. Thus began the Oh-My-Dog-We-Are-Late-And-Must-Leave-The-House-Now! drill. 15 minutes later, we were on the road for the last baseball game of the season, after which we visited the grocery store.
Onwards to home, Mr. Clean dropped us off and went in to the office for a few hours. Doodlebug settled in to his room with a Rubbermaid bucket full of Lego's. Shaggy finished cleaning his room and headed out to mow the lawn. I sat down on the couch, had a glass of iced tea, and then woke up two hours later to the sounds of Doodlebug trying to kick down Shaggy's door while Shaggy sat inside, yelling, "That's the hardest you can kick?"
I still don't know how I fell asleep. Sufficed to say, the rest of Saturday was a bust as we had other things planned for the evening. I still had Sunday!
Sunday dawned and I woke fresh as a daisy. Okay, that is a lie. I had more sleep but I still did the Lurching-Zombie-Shuffle, my hands outstretched, my mouth wide open as I moaned, "Coffee" while I yawned. Mr. Clean loves these moments. He drops his voice a couple of octaves and, while sounding like a cross between Vincent Price and Alfred Hitchcock, cries out, "The Dead has Risen!" Lucky for him, my coordination was still in bed dreaming or I'd have koshed him over the head and then eaten his brains for breakfast.
Two and half hours of work completed (for the day job), I stared at the laptop and thought, "Hmm, I should really write today." Mr. Clean agreed and announced that he would take Shaggy, Shaggy's friend, and Doodlebug to Gander Mountain so Shaggy could get his bow sighted (so he does not accidentally shoot something other than the target with his arrows). He promised a nice Venti Mocha-Lite Frappuccino with Peppermint and no whip on his return. Yippy! Writing and Coffee!
I sat back down to write but another plot idea kept interfering with my concentration. So, I pulled out one of my journals and wrote the idea out. Gone? Yes! WIP back in mind. While the WIP was marinating, I checked email. Then, I played a few rousing rounds of JT's Blocks on Yahoo Games. I stared at the laptop some more. By now, it was almost 4 p.m. Oh, I forgot to run on the treadmill today! I walked/ran for 30 minutes. I took a shower. I started to sit back down but remembered I was trying my Chicken Marsala recipe creation for dinner. No time to write, I had to get all the prep work done! I thought about writing while I pounded chicken breasts, while I chopped shallots, mushrooms, garlic, and pancetta. I even thought about the next chapter while I measured out Marsala wine, chicken broth, and cream. And when it was all said and done (2.5 hours and a few belches later)....
WIP = 0 words (but dinner was awesome)
Looks like I'll be chugging away during the week after all.
The kitchen chairs are too hard and the spawnlings like to sit down across from me to munch on something loud and crunchy and ask, every few moments, "How many words do you have now?" - to which, I'd like to reply by eating them.
The couch is great for movie watching but I sit Indian style when I write. It's a fluffy couch. My legs tend to fall asleep after a while. So I fidget. And write. And fidget. And curse. And fidget. And then I usually give up the WIP to watch a movie instead.
I love my bed but, again, very soft and very fluffy. After about 30 minutes, my back starts to ache from laying on my stomach. And then I put my head down to "think" and fall asleep (because it's so luscious, my bed). I can't sit up in bed to write. It just doesn't work out.
I would leave the house to play with my words but I live in the Country. Yes, with a capital C. The nearest Starbucks is 25 minutes away. There's a Panera near there also but I'd be tempted to eat and if you've never seen the calorie content of Panera's offerings, maybe you don't want to ask. Ignorance was bliss. I asked. Their Cinnamon scones, alone, have more calories than a Big Mac. Seriously. They should name their little nutritional content book, Look At How Much Fat We Can Put In Our Food!
There are no coffee shops directly in my town (something I thought to remedy at one time but then decided I enjoy my paid vacations and sick time) so leaving home is sort of a wash. Well, there is one other spot... Down by the lake (15 minute drive) there is a boating dock next to a McDonald's and they have covered picnic tables. And it might work, if I could just get used to all the ducks coming for a look-see and then quacking their criticisms. Plus, guys in swim trunks with glistening tanned muscles who pull up in speedboats to get a snack? Distracting!
So, I have my weekends.
A mere 4 hours after I went to bed, just as the good dreaming parts hit my resting brain, Saturday arrived in the guise of a reenactment of D-Day. Umm, I should preface by saying I sleep like the dead. It's often been joked that one could set off a bomb near me and I would not even grumble and turn over. I would just lay there slack-jawed and, well, dead looking.
In order to wake up, I require the use of an alarm clock which has two separate alarms - one, a toe-curling buzz that enters the brain and takes up residence like a live hornet's nest and the other, the radio, set to the absolute loudest station I can find, causing me leap up and wonder if perhaps I was transported to the middle of a gang fight in L.A. while I slept. In addition to that - Yes, I actually require More - my cell phone is set to go off 30 minutes later, also set to the most annoying ring tone possible. Thus, I woke up Saturday morning... groggy, imagining gunfire, and thinking my bed had been invaded by hornets (and, if you've been reading here a while, you'll know what happens when I encounter buzzing things that Sting).
Normally, I have a fourth insurance policy for waking up - Mr. Clean, who cannot stand all of my alarms. Alas, I woke to find Mr. Clean had abandoned me for the fluffy couch and Fox News. Except, the fluffy couch sang its Siren Song to him. Doing my Saturday morning Lurching-Zombie-Shuffle, I found him happily snoring away. Thus began the Oh-My-Dog-We-Are-Late-And-Must-Leave-The-House-Now! drill. 15 minutes later, we were on the road for the last baseball game of the season, after which we visited the grocery store.
Onwards to home, Mr. Clean dropped us off and went in to the office for a few hours. Doodlebug settled in to his room with a Rubbermaid bucket full of Lego's. Shaggy finished cleaning his room and headed out to mow the lawn. I sat down on the couch, had a glass of iced tea, and then woke up two hours later to the sounds of Doodlebug trying to kick down Shaggy's door while Shaggy sat inside, yelling, "That's the hardest you can kick?"
I still don't know how I fell asleep. Sufficed to say, the rest of Saturday was a bust as we had other things planned for the evening. I still had Sunday!
Sunday dawned and I woke fresh as a daisy. Okay, that is a lie. I had more sleep but I still did the Lurching-Zombie-Shuffle, my hands outstretched, my mouth wide open as I moaned, "Coffee" while I yawned. Mr. Clean loves these moments. He drops his voice a couple of octaves and, while sounding like a cross between Vincent Price and Alfred Hitchcock, cries out, "The Dead has Risen!" Lucky for him, my coordination was still in bed dreaming or I'd have koshed him over the head and then eaten his brains for breakfast.
Two and half hours of work completed (for the day job), I stared at the laptop and thought, "Hmm, I should really write today." Mr. Clean agreed and announced that he would take Shaggy, Shaggy's friend, and Doodlebug to Gander Mountain so Shaggy could get his bow sighted (so he does not accidentally shoot something other than the target with his arrows). He promised a nice Venti Mocha-Lite Frappuccino with Peppermint and no whip on his return. Yippy! Writing and Coffee!
I sat back down to write but another plot idea kept interfering with my concentration. So, I pulled out one of my journals and wrote the idea out. Gone? Yes! WIP back in mind. While the WIP was marinating, I checked email. Then, I played a few rousing rounds of JT's Blocks on Yahoo Games. I stared at the laptop some more. By now, it was almost 4 p.m. Oh, I forgot to run on the treadmill today! I walked/ran for 30 minutes. I took a shower. I started to sit back down but remembered I was trying my Chicken Marsala recipe creation for dinner. No time to write, I had to get all the prep work done! I thought about writing while I pounded chicken breasts, while I chopped shallots, mushrooms, garlic, and pancetta. I even thought about the next chapter while I measured out Marsala wine, chicken broth, and cream. And when it was all said and done (2.5 hours and a few belches later)....
WIP = 0 words (but dinner was awesome)
Looks like I'll be chugging away during the week after all.
|
I love chicken marsala. Good luck with the writing.