Writis Interruptus

I’ve had a couple small but encouraging bits of news from the publishing world the past couple weeks. Enough to spur a driving need to hover over the keyboard.

But just when that drive is the strongest, the most demanding, that’s when it seems things interfere. Doctor’s appointments. Family matters. Grocery shopping to ensure we don’t starve. Flat tires that required waiting for a new one to be mounted and balanced before I could go home.  All sort of things conspiring to eat up my writing time. And it’s really getting me down.

Since surgery my house is a wreck, wrecking my concentration. I keep telling myself not to worry over it; it’ll still be there for me to take care of when I get better. (My other self answers, saying, “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”) But at the same time there have been small improvements. Meds are rarely necessary now. My brain is defogging, even if I haven’t had much luck in the physical adaptations department. I just want you to know wheelie-bobbing a load of dirty laundry to the machine is an adventure in itself. If one piece doesn’t commit suicide by leaping off the pile and flinging itself around a wheel on my walker, I have to backtrack and collect everything I dribbled down the hallway and through the living room like a trail of perma-press breadcrumbs.

On top of that the season of horror is upon me again. We’ve had one frost and my grandson already has seven squirrel corpses in a Ziploc bag in the freezer. And y’all know how much I love tree rats! I reach in thinking I’m grabbing something to thaw for dinner only to end up squawking and trying to sling the creep factor off my hand when I realize what I’m holding.

I’ve gone so far as to try to ensure no guilt feelings over my laptop obsession. Prior to my planned writing marathon I diligently completed my Thanksgiving shopping list. We’re expecting a house full. I was worried about keeping up with things since I’m not 100% yet. But I have the best son-in-law in the Universe. He showed up last week with a huge grin and a new dishwasher. He stayed and hooked things up, even loading the dishes from the sink into it for me. (Of course his requests as he worked went straight to the top of the ‘must fix’ list for the get together.)

Even tonight things conspired against me. I planned on writing this evening while hubby watched TV, but the aquarium filter self destructed and we had to make an emergency trip to Wally-World for a replacement. Between the two of us we got the new one functioning. Were the fish grateful? Doubt it. They just kept hitting the top of the water, communicating in their fishy way, “Yo! People person! Opening of the lid means food should be sprinkled upon the water like aquatic manna. You opened the lid; now where’s the food?!?”

But it was the phone call that had me gathering my research notes and putting them away, folding down the pages of the yellow legal pad with my outline and slipping everything back into its tote in defeat. The conversation went something like this:

“Hey, Maw! Guess what? Tomorrow’s my last day of school and I can come stay with you over the whole Thanksgiving holiday and I don’t have to go back home until the night before we go back to school! Isn’t that great? So, what time are you picking me up?”

I guess sometimes we’re just meant to do other things than write. Oh, the heck with that! I’m like an addict with a bad habit when it comes to writing. If I have to, I’ll get in a ‘hit’ here and there when no one is paying attention. Maybe I can hide in the bathroom. Hmmm. If the shower’s running, I bet no one will hear me pecking at the keys!


Contains WOLF IN THE NIGHT, available Thanksgiving Day. Visit my website for details.



7 Responses

  1. It’s not nice to laugh at someone else’s troubles but your post is so damn funny!! Everythig boils down to gottas and wannas or wish I didn’t have tos — you are overloaded with gottas just now. Send out a list of “will you please brings”, appoint your visiting grandson “chief squired” and assign age-appropriate duties. then kick back and write a bit. Great post, Runere. LOL RitaVF
    ps looking forward to buying your book. Will wait til after next meeting cause I need opiinions on readers and formats. R

    • I’m getting better, really. Just not fast enough to suit me! lol The greatest frustration is everyday things taking sooo much longer to accomplish while gimped up. Used to zipping through chores and household duties.

      (If I could just keep the laundry out of my wheels . . . takes forever to pry Steve’s underwear loose! )

  2. As many interruptions as you’ve had, I think I’m thankful for them. Sorry! But if you hadn’t had those interruptions, you wouldn’t have stories like this to share with us!

    I’m glad you’re doing better physically and your grandson sounds like my nephews used to sound. “We get to stay the WHOLE WEEK! What’re we gonna do?” Meh.

    Don’t worry about it. As you’re dealing with real life issues, your stories are building up in your mind. Kind of like a pressure cooker and when you take the lid off, watch out! 😉

  3. Just so I don’t end up on the evening news! I can hear the commentator now: “This video just in from our mobile crew. Police and firefighters are now attempting to remove a hysterical woman from her roof. Wow! Look at her escape efforts to subdue her while galloping back and forth across those asphalt shingles! And with a walker! More film at 10.”

  4. Ok- I have to say that your response to Rita’s comment left me giggling- I pictured you and Steve wit you prying off his undies- AND HE WAS HELPING!!!

    And as to galloping on your roof, I want to see you gallop again my dear!

    Are you making squirrel soup for the g’son while he’s there?

    Congrats on your publishing news. Love ya, babe

    • Steve’s a very courteous husband. He ALWAYS slows down enough for me to catch him! LOL Looks so cute the way he keeps winking over his shoulder!

      As to galloping? Having inordinate amount of ‘running’ dreams lately. Sigh.

      Trying to ignore the squirrel issue, but I know it won’t work. Guess I’ll make what he wants out of them. (Yuckies!)

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