WIP Interrupted/Phantasy Friday

A Work In Progress–WIP–is a delicate thing. It begins an idea. The idea germinates, unfurling into a plot. The plot blossoms into a detailed storyline. The storyline develops intriguing characters. Characters interact, compelling the reader with enthralling description and emotional dialogue.

So why would I equate a WIP with Phantasy Friday? Because as long as the thirteen g-kids are around, a WIP doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance.

I have a tendency to get so deep into my WIP I lose time. To the point I actually incorporate activities, sounds and smells currently occurring into what I’m writing, before I realize what I’m typing doesn’t belong. I started a log of interruptions a while back to, you know, keep from killing grandchildren. Who knows? Maybe frustration, like grief, is lessened when shared. These are some actual pieces of WIP’s — and their interruptions.

Sweat filmed her body. That had been close. Too close. Anxious to reach the hostages in time she’d almost rounded that blind corner, almost exposed herself. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! A man they’d been unaware of patrolled the hall. Weapon held upright in a two-handed grip, back pressed tight to the wall in a crouch, Kenna waited for him to reach the corner that concealed her. Eyes closed, she stopped breathing to better discern his advancing steps. She concentrated totally, listening for that slight change of sound in his . . . 

. . .  herd of elephants thundering above her, pounding ever nearer. “Oh, dear God! Get off that roof! All of you! Now! Wait, how the hell did you even get up there?”

His palms followed the bare contours of her upper thighs, drifted upward over silky rounded buttocks. He couldn’t stop a smile as he felt tiny goosebumps prickle beneath his fingertips. He frowned. The sensation crawled upward  over his arms. . . 

. . . “Okay, who’s idea was it to let all these Daddy Long Legs loose in my office?!?”

We also have straight up disruptions. Me, to disgruntled cluster of kids: “Oh, no. We’re all going to sit right here until I get an explanation as to why the horse’s water trough is bobbing in the pond with ‘SS Titanic’ spray-painted in red on its side. Don’t you glare at your cousin! He didn’t tell! I heard the water spattering off his clothes when he tried to sneak in to change. That’s what you get for tossing him out to swim to the iceberg!” 

Waiting for screams. Warned not to; but the 12 yr old just went outside armed with a fly swatter and a can of Hotshot Hornet Spray. This can’t end well.

Would someone please tell my why a teen will pass two bathrooms to pee outside? NEVER open back door without fumbling knob. Gives ’em time to fumble it back into their pants.

Another time the preacher visited the neighbor across the street. His kids noticed all my grandkids and wandered over. Why, sure you can listen to C.D.’s while I write! What a splendid, considerate idea . . . Just settled into the zone when a familiar guitar riff and thumping bass line penetrated my awareness. Things fly everywhere as I lunge from the desk chair to run down the hall yelling, “Not Nine Inch Nails! Not Nine Inch Nails!”

     The bass guitar thumped in a heavy driving beat. The lead screamed its deafening answer. From overhead the sweep of red strobing lights leant the smoky club an alien atmosphere as she pushed her way through the oblivious dancers writhing in time. Music and macabre laughter  . . .

. . .  silenced themselves. Wait, it’s too quiet. Go check. “Why are there sticks teepee’d for a fire in the living room? Practice my back leg! And somebody better find my coffee table and put it back right now!”

On a side note, never cut the watermelon unless you have trays ready to serve it immediately. They all have pocket knives. Turn your back for thirty seconds and they’ve whittled the heart out, leaving you with only the part with all the seeds.

“Why haven’t more of you had baths? And why does the Jacuzzi sound so funny?” Ha. Did you know the shower curtain and three walls of the shower surround make a perfect bubble container? Fills clear to the  rings on the shower rod, with a suds quality that would make shampoo commercial producers weep tears of envy. You have to grope blindly around armpit deep in the foam, but you finally locate the missing four-year old straddling the corner of the tub. You lug him dripping pieces of his bubble suit outside to rinse with the hose because it takes a full day for the suds in the tub to subside, no matter how much water you squirt on them.

I’ll fix them. I’ll sit in the livingroom where I can see and hear everything. I begin to write. A repetitive shadow keeps distracting me. I look up to see the fourteen-year old–(he’s 6 foot 1 and weighs 180 pounds, and hasn’t had his growth spurt yet) grinning like a jackass as he waits for me to notice him grand jete-ing back and forth in front of the window. Shirtless. (Panic flares. When did my baby acquire a set of six-pack abs?!?) I blink. He’s wearing my flowered straw gardening hat. The one I purposely bought large and gaudy, laboring under the misconception ugly meant it would be left alone.

I give up. I turn off the laptop and haul it to my office.

Would you mind leaning a little closer, please? I need to whisper this next part. I really don’t want to scare anyone away from writing. So if they read this and happen to ask you about it, for the love of Pete, lie! Swear it’s all fiction!  

 

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11 Responses

  1. Another great post that I can picture in my head. Why is it that boys have nothing to say until you either get on the phone or in the zone and then suddenly, they HAVE to have your attention? Is it innate? Gotta love them- but sometimes, gotta want to strangle them.

    Sounds like you are getting one paragraph a day done. At that rate, you’ll have a finished manuscript in what? 5 years? Have fun with the little monsters. LOL!

    • Not just the boys! Looked up once to see my old Ford Explorer bouncing across the front yard. My 13 yr old granddaughter had decided to teach herself to drive!

  2. OMG, Runere…that was the best! I don’t have kids, but I have nephews and a brother. When they come over and I’m trying to write (which is what I stopped doing at home completely), it was:

    Nephew 1: “Whatca doin’?”
    Me: “I’m writing.”
    Nephew 1: “That’s gay.”
    Me: “Go away so I can concentrate.”
    Nephew 1: “But I’m hungry, fix me something to eat.”
    Me: “You’re 18, fix it yourself.”
    Nephew 2: “You never spend any time with us!”
    Brother: “I just want to talk to you.”
    Me: “I give up!!”

    And I have no idea why they have to pee outside. They never grow out of it either. *tries to understand* I just don’t get it.

    • *laughing hysterically* Yours could be an instant replay of what happens here! I feel like we should form a club. Interrupted Writers Annonymous. AND I feel better knowing it doesn’t just happen to me!

  3. Sfcatty, that is the perfect name for our group! LOL

  4. Love your story, Runere. I c an’t imagine dealing with a large family but you manage so well!! It’s a wonder you get any writing done. Seems to have struck a familiar note with those who left comments. Didn’t know about the bubbles.in the showere–will have to try it out. As always, a great post. RitaVF

    • Yup, fill the tub, turn on the Jacuzzi jets and squirt in some shampoo. Pull the shower curtain closed and wait. I couldn’t believe the amount of bubbles produced!

  5. Lois, it’s always an adventure at your house.. hahahaha… what funny tails, and since I know them, I can picture it all so perfectly. winks..

  6. I am so sorry this took me forever to respond to but I have to say, I told out mutual friend SFCatty I didn’t know what you write normally but you should so consider writing humor because you have an incredible talent for it. Erma Bombeck comes to mind when I read some of your posts. Thanks for the giggles. I love that it comes on Friday because by then we can all use a laugh. Thanks to you for sharing and the grandkids for their antics. Going to try that bubble thing myself I think. My bathroom has tile walls all round it could be a great cleaning method.

    • Thanks for the kind words, Darlene! I trip a lot (over my feet and things left lying around!) while tearing from one situation to another, but at least life is never boring. Great cardio workout, running and the jolt from the loud “BOO!” after being snuck up on!

      Plus it gives me endless sources of inspiration, even if most people believe it’s fiction! If they only knew . . . LOL

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