Some people bake, some people knit, some people run... I write. It's what I do instead of stabbing people.
I was working on a story several months ago that I got stuck on. I had the basic outline, I just couldn't figure out which direction I wanted to go so I put it down for a bit and moved on to something else.
I woke up this morning thinking about that one story and suddenly knew exactly where it should go. So I decided to bounce it off of Dan. I explained the whys, wheres, hows, and let him give me feedback. He was stoked. He said he really liked it and couldn't wait for me to finish it.
He gets really excited when I mention a story that I may have an ending to because I am notorious for starting one and never finishing it. I have what I jokingly call "OCED" or Obsessive Compulsive Editing Disorder. I can't seem to write a chapter and leave it be- I must go back and edit the bajeebus out of it.
Anyhow, I made a pot of coffee, grabbed my laptop, and settled down in the living room.
Dan turned on baseball and I thought, "Oh good, it's baseball; I can write with baseball on in the background." Then he flipped to recorded episodes of Jeopardy. I kinda half-heartedly watched some of it while I was re-reading what I'd already written. Five episodes of Jeopardy later, he asked if I would mind rehearsing his show with him.
I replied, "No I don't mind, but can I do it later?"
He said, "But I really need to get this memorized."
I said, perhaps a bit more abruptly than I intended, "I thought you wanted me to write! Do you or do you not want me to get this done? I thought you were excited about me possibly finishing something?"
He apologized and turned off the TV. Every few minutes, he would laugh and show me something he found on Facebook or ask if I'd heard of something that happened recently.
This is what happens when I go on a field trip with my kids and he doesn't see me for an entire day. It's good to know he misses me.
Finally, I got up and said I was headed to the bathroom. I'm currently sitting here with my laptop, typing this. No, I didn't need to actually use the facilities, I'm just sitting here. I'm fairly sure it's the only room of the house in which I can sit quietly and not be disturbed.
Meanwhile, I have exactly three new sentences written on the story that I saw so clearly in my head this morning. Three.
/sigh I haven't even killed off the main character yet.
Am I the only one who's ever wondered if a recliner would fit in their bathroom?
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