I looked at the calendar yesterday as I was trying to figure out how to coordinate a number of family appointments, etc. OMG! Two weeks–TWO–until the end of the school year.
It wouldn’t do to have a calm, relaxed last two weeks of school, either. Nope, gotta get an awards night in, a field trip to the art museum, a tree-planting day for the tennis team (a good thing!), a Senior High Community Service day (a good thing!), a Junior High dance, a field trip to the Valleyfair amusement park (think a scaled back, wanna-be-Six-Flags-type park), etc. all in the next two weeks, and that’s not counting finals. Best toss in a holiday and orthodontist appointment(s) somewhere in there as well.
Why, oh why so much crammed into the last two weeks of the school year? Granted, my kids are teens–one in junior high, the other in senior high, and thank goodness one of them can drive, but still, I feel like we’ll be more busy in the next couple weeks than we’ve been since the holidays. Then again, next year my son graduates from high school, so maybe this year’s activities aren’t so bad compared to what they’ll be next year.
My biggest complaint is the erosion of my writing time. The garden’s been planted, and now begins the great weed chase. It’s like Whack-a-Mole: there’s one; oh, there’s another; hey, I just pulled one there; dammit there’s two more; I thought I dug that dandelion out; WTF–those weeds weren’t there yesterday! Needless to say, weedy carnival games + later sunsets = less writing time. Rainy days = a great excuse to stay out of the garden and write instead!
On the bright side, weeding is pretty mindless, so it’s an opportunity to brainstorm story ideas, plot lines, characters, and blog posts. Oh, and I can talk to my Muse without anyone thinking I’m more nuts than they already do. 😉
“Hey, are you talking about me again?” My Muse appears, hands in the pockets of his well-worn jeans (he does wear them well 😉 ). He peers over my shoulder at the computer screen. “You don’t talk to me when you’re weeding. You talk to yourself.”
“Back off. It’s my blog post, and I’m already two days late with it.”
He leans a hip against my desk. “If you talked to me while you weed, you wouldn’t have to take walks to talk to me. You could use that time to write.”
“That’s so not the purpose of taking my walks. It’s my way of mitigating stress. Besides, I run now during the nice weather.”
He chuckles. “Yes, and you listen to audio books instead of working on your writing. You can write to mitigate stress, you know.”
“With audio books I can kill two birds with one stone–and don’t you dare call me on the cliche. Aren’t you supposed to be working on something?”
“I’m working on you. You need to get moving on your WIP.”
“Hello–awards night last night. That was an hour and a half. And I read through the contest critique for my fantasy. Need to revise that again so I can submit a partial.”
He crouches next to me so his face is level with mine. His blue eyes remind me of spring skies. “WIP first, then the fantasy you’ve been pounding on for the past ten years.”
“But it’s a partial request.”
“How much revision do you need to do on your fantasy?” Before I can answer, he waves a finger at me. “I’ll give you two days to work on the partial of your fantasy to submit, then you will set it aside and work on your WIP. Rainy weekend ahead, so you should be able to get some writing done.”
“Saturday morning is pegged to running errands in–”
He waves his finger in my face. “Ah, ah, ah, no excuses, or I’m going to dog your ass until you can’t think of anything but writing.”
“And how is that different from any other day?”
A sinister smile oozes onto his face, along with a dark glint in his eyes. “Remember when I reminded you how I can stop playing fair?”
Gulp. It took me hours to shake off the emotional whiplash from those conflict climax scenes from my various manuscripts. They’d run the gamut of anger, despair, fear, and lust. “Yes,” I answer, but my voice wavers.
“I’m prepared to stop playing fair. And next time, all your brainstorming scene work is fair game.”
I think my heart is still where it’s supposed to be, but I can’t feel it beating. I wrote those scenes because I had to get them out of my head, and they don’t fit into any current projects; they are parts of future projects on my list. Most of them have high emotional intensity between characters, more so than in most of my finished drafts. If he pulls those into his arsenal, it won’t be pretty.
“Looks like you get it. I’ll see you later.” He straightens and vanishes.
Sometimes I wish he wasn’t such a taskmaster, but I need him to be. Note to self: pick up some chocolate on the next shopping run 🙂
Have a great day, everyone, and Write On!