When I became a career novelist, I thought…hey, I’ll run my life as if I had an office to go to everyday – “go to the office” around 8 am, “come home” around 4pm, when the kids got off the bus – perfect!
Except, that schedule sort of only works in my brain. (there’s a lot of other things stuck in there too – like the 5 ft 7, size two woman, the mini-Martha, the wanna be Beth Moore. Yeah, it’s cluttered).
The truth is, when I’m working on a book – in the discovery phase (where I do a sort of NaNoWriMo, except I do it about 3-4 times a year), or when I’m at the tail end of a book and furiously analyzing every word – I sort of get obsessed. Tunnel vision. My version of “All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy.” (only without the axe. Or the voices…okay, maybe there are voices.).
My people come into my office, where I’m nested deep in my big blue writing chair, and say things like. “Are we ever going to eat?” or “Did you want us to have cereal for supper again?” or, even “Did you know there is no cereal left?” and my favorite, “Mom, if you don’t answer me I’m going to run away with the troupe of circus performers at the front door.”
Did you say something honey?
(Personally, I don’t know why everyone is so obsessed with food).
It occurred to me this weekend, in the home stretch of editing, that maybe I should look up. Just to make sure the house wasn’t on fire.
Whoops. She has no opposable thumbs. I’ll feed her.
Sigh. Okay, back to work.
We can eat next spring.