Put on those heels girls and let's get ready to meet a deadline!
At least that is what I am telling myself after a weekend of painting, cleaning, and all things uncluttering. I have no more excuses. My house is spotless, dishwasher churning, beds made with clean sheets, and my living room/dining room area AND hallway a nice new green color. I've received my shiny, new bubble gum pink RAZR phone and all its required customizations in wallpaper and ringer jingles--it's now time to write.
Big time. Deadline approaching in 8 days. What do I have to do. Weave in a heavy subplot. Make it sparkle. Dazzle. And wow the pants of my agent. Who is not in Italy doing all those things one does on vacation. And me? I should be writing. Or should have been writing for a week already. But instead rambled on about memories, Kmart, and even a bit about my mother's marriage advice. And yet? Not one word has been rewritten yet (that's a lie. I did redo the first chapter or so to make sure I hadn't yet lost my sanity over this subplot. But now? I'm farther behind than I can even imagine). And a cold has settled into my sinuses. And throat. And well makes me all groggy inside.
But I'm not complaining! Really. I mean, I wanted to become a *real* writer. Right? And they write through the snot. And aches. And sneezes. And weezes. And hell, who am I to pretend? I suck it up regardless. I have to. I'm a mom. So, I'll take the mom thing and wrap it around the writerly thing. And work through the sickness. It can only get better right? (Don't answer that, I can't take one word of negativity while I write. You can sic it to me later. When I don't have a deadline to tend to).
So, with the power of pink cell phones, cool ringtones, and my precious writing cowboy hat (that doesn't ever leave my house)-- I'm off to write.
Big time. Deadline approaching in 8 days. What do I have to do. Weave in a heavy subplot. Make it sparkle. Dazzle. And wow the pants of my agent. Who is not in Italy doing all those things one does on vacation. And me? I should be writing. Or should have been writing for a week already. But instead rambled on about memories, Kmart, and even a bit about my mother's marriage advice. And yet? Not one word has been rewritten yet (that's a lie. I did redo the first chapter or so to make sure I hadn't yet lost my sanity over this subplot. But now? I'm farther behind than I can even imagine). And a cold has settled into my sinuses. And throat. And well makes me all groggy inside.
But I'm not complaining! Really. I mean, I wanted to become a *real* writer. Right? And they write through the snot. And aches. And sneezes. And weezes. And hell, who am I to pretend? I suck it up regardless. I have to. I'm a mom. So, I'll take the mom thing and wrap it around the writerly thing. And work through the sickness. It can only get better right? (Don't answer that, I can't take one word of negativity while I write. You can sic it to me later. When I don't have a deadline to tend to).
So, with the power of pink cell phones, cool ringtones, and my precious writing cowboy hat (that doesn't ever leave my house)-- I'm off to write.
