electric mist

I guess this means I ought to get busy writing.

A friend called here yesterday -- I'll call her Kista -- and we visited, which we don't get to do very often. In the longish rather convoluted conversation, she started asking me about the novel, which she'd heard a bit about the last time we talked. Turns out that Kista has a good friend-- "Beatrice" -- who's published and getting six figure advances for her books. Beatrice told Kista that if Kista ever came across something in the same genre as Beatrice's own books that Kista liked well enough, then Beatrice would take it to her own agent to help out; apparently, Kista's either done enough favors for Beatrice or Beatrice just admires Kista's tastes, I don't know, but Kista then told me she wants to refer my book.

Kista asked me how far along the novel had progressed.

So of course, because I don't want to feel any pressure, because I don't want to write to an artificial deadline, I do the right thing, right? I say, "oh, at least a year," because I just got back into writing, and really, there's the writing and then the rewriting and then the polishing and I know this, I do, I have been down this road too many times, and lo, just as I open my mouth, there is an out-of-body experience and Skippy, my-evil-twin takes over (I know it's Skippy, it couldn't possibly be me because I am not a masochist and do not have a death wish), and then Skippy will smile oh-so-evilly-sweetly and sound JUST LIKE ME even though it's not me and she'll say, "Oh, gosh, I'm nearly finished. Just a couple of chapters and a bit of polishing and I'm done." And then there is a very ugly smackdown session going on where I'm fighting Skippy for my brain back and by that time, the other person usually says, "Really? Great! I'll expect to see it in a couple of months then," and Skippy looks over at me with her vicious brain eating grin and snarks, "muuuaaahhaaa" and my brain melts.

Somehow in the middle of that smackdown session this time, I got a little control back and tried to be a bit vague with, "Oh, but I'm giving myself until past Christmas -- I've got so many projects to do for the business, I want to be reasonable," and Skippy's trying to take back over and offer that August is so TOO reasonable, but I knock her down and threaten her with complete chocolate deprivation and she goes and sulks in a corner, plotting her next revenge. Meanwhile, I did manage to mention to Kista that it would be after Christmas (at least; I'm pretty sure I threw and "at least" in there) and she very nicely said, "Well, I'm not going anywhere and neither is Beatrice, so don't worry. Whenever you get ready, that's fine."

And lo, I was relieved. But I guess that means I had better get busy writing, huh?

I am finished painting all of Carl's office and most of the stuff for mine. I probably have one or maybe two more days and then everything is done and I won't let Carl start anything else for a while. Although he is now mentioning how he could build me a much much nicer credenza with places for the computer and printer built in, vs the too-big box-like shelf-thing I have now, which takes up too much room. I am trying not to be enticed, because I would have to paint (or stain) it, too. It's way too easy to substitute household projects for writing because of the instant gratification.

Posted by toni at June 29, 2004 07:02 PM