Wednesday, January 02, 2013

Life really gets in the way of writing

A lot of my fellow writers are knuckling down to work today, getting back to routines. It's the start of a new year, and time to get serious about that book. I wrote one sentence. That's right, one sentence (okay maybe I'll do two or three more tonight). Just to make it sound a little better, let me point out it's the first sentence in a new book...and that's always hard. And before I wrote it I had to go back to the previous book in the series and make a list of all the characters--because I was lazy and didn't do it the first time. Also had to look for quotes about hindsight, because that's how I want to open the book.
But I also had, at nine-thirty in the morning, a six-year-old who was watching a scary program on TV--I checked, it was Disney Channel--and decided he's like to watch it on my desk. Then, "Could you pull up naughty elves at home?" Pulled it up and found an extensive page of pictures, every one of which he wanted to study. His father told me he thinks his elf wasn't naughty enough, though there's one picture of an elf holding an electric razor and sitting next to a man with a bold swath of his head shaved. "My elf better not do that," Jacob said, "because then I'd touch him and he'd lose all his magic."
Jacob is with me during the day for three days because school hasn't started yet. It may be a long three days. At 10:30, he wanted lunch: I put him off until 11:15. At one, I delivered him to a neighbor's house to play and then that mom brought three little boys back here for snacks. While they played we had tea by the fireplace--kind of civilized, I thought. I still have the fire going, and every time I walk through the living room I feel a breath of warmth but unfortunately it doesn't reach to my office. But there went the day--Jordan stayed and we discussed family affairs until almost six, so there went the afternoon.
Tomorrow Jacob will leave at noon with a friend and the friend's grandfather for lunch and a trip to the Museum of Science and History, but I will spend the morning fixing dinner for all of them. May be another one-sentence day. Friday, grocery store, a probable trip to Grapevine for lunch (with Jacob), and dinner for a friend; Saturday, Jacob spends the night. Sunday is Twelfth Night, and we always throw a twig from the tree in the fire and make a wish--friends will join us, and I'll make a big pot of soup to use up yesterday's ham. Then, of course, I'll have to take down Christmas.
But next week, I'm going to write. Honest I am. I keep telling myself I'm a writer. I wonder how many other writers feel this way? Excuse me, but I'm going to write that second sentence now.

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