Writing interruptions, rude birds and scared dogs
No blogging or writing last night. Too sick with bad sinus infection. Day job boss actually sent me home. The MD gave me horse pills, medicated cough syrup and other pills. I’m more doped up than a 60’s rock star. I feel like my head’s stuffed with concrete. Does this make me a blockhead?
A bit anxious about revising this vamp book. Need to get it done and out to the agent before we leave on vacation. I tried working on it last night, but could barely keep my eyes open. As I was driving to work this morning, I thought about how difficult it is to snatch a whole block of writing time. Working full-time slashes into my writing time. When I do get a block of time, the interruptions happen. Like Sunday afternoon. It was thundering and raining like mad and I was sitting on the couch with the laptop. DH had left to prowl around the stores to give me time to write and I was alone with me and my vamps. Quality writing time. HA!
Thunderstorms. Tiger, our male Shih Tzu, is terrified of them. He’s trying to jump up on the end table, threatening to scatter the myriad of books, papers, table lamp, etc. Don’t ask me why the dog thinks jumping on TOP of the end table will save him from the KABOOM! Finally he settles for crawling in the space between the couch and the end table.
I start writing.
Tia, the female Shih Tzu, jumps up on my lap. I pushed her aside, let her stay by me. But no. That wasn’t good enough. She had to be ON my lap. Puts her paw on the keyboard. I had a very long sentence that looked like this, “Lucien wondered if he and Ashley would ever EJDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD”
Stuttering keyboard thanks to scared Shih Tzu.
So she’s lying there, looking up at me with those big brown puppy dog eyes as if to say, “Hello? It’s thundering out and I’m scared. Pay attention here. I don’t care about your book. I’m cute and loveable and it’s thundering out so stop that silly typing and pay attention to me.”
Then finally, she agrees to lie beside me instead of on top of the keyboard. Start writing again. Bird starts shrieking. And shrieking. Put down laptop, open patio door, tell bird in reasonable tone to stop it. Bird looks at me and grins. Honestly. Grins.
Shut patio door. Return to keyboard. Dog is in spot next to me. Other dog is hiding in space between couch and end table. I start to write. Bird starts shrieking again. I set down laptop, go out and open patio door. This time, I’m not fooling around. Throw cover on cage to shut up bird. Bird says very clearly from under cloth, “F*** you.”
This is his typical response to me. I honestly don’t know where he picked it up. I never told him that. Bird never says to me “Good morning” like he says to DH. Or even, “Hello.” Just a muttered, “F*** you.” Have I mentioned the bird and I don’t get along? Finally, return to typing and just as I’m getting into the story, DH comes home and wants to know what we’ll do about dinner. When I protest I’m in the middle of writing, he looks at me pointedly and says, “You’ve had all afternoon to write.”
Tempted to borrow bird’s vocabulary and mutter “F*** you” but think the better of it.