It’s Been A Week
One I’d rather not repeat, though my wish is unlikely to be granted. For Wee-er Dave, the Dave of the she persuasion, has become two. Not in the chronological sense, which she passed some months back. No, my sunny, little delight, has run headlong — screaming, even — into the Twoness called Terrible. Last week, her dress was wrong. Same thing today (I’m writing this yesterday). Different dress, though. And breakfast was wrong. As was her hair (well, Child, should you cooperate, all of this can be resolved to both of our satisfaction). This resulted in forcible insertion into her car seat, sans shoes and socks, which was also wrong. So, so wrong.
But it all started with the dress. Nevermind that I told her when she got food on it, last night, that it would be unavailable for today. Nevermind that when I suggested she wear a bib to prevent such, and even installed said preventative, it was promptly removed. Nevermind all of that. The universe, as personified in Daddy, had conspired against her, and this was Bad and Wrong, and she would let the world know. Fortunately, she simmered to a mere sulk by the time of arrival at school, and once she saw there was painting (PAINTING, DADDY), she turned sunny, again.
What does that have to do with today’s topic? Not a blessed thing, except to note that life continues apace, and I’d like to push it over and put the boot in. Just a bit. Then go write. Fortunately, I have my soothing metal, and my coffee hideaway, and a few hours a day to breathe and maybe put words to page.
To that end, I’d like to exhort you to take a break every once in a while. I don’t mean stop writing, though it may include that. Yesterday (today, as I’m writing this (yay, for time-traveling!)) the esteemed Dr. Monkey wrote about noodling, about doing the mental prep work. Here’s my suggestion: do that somewhere else. If it’s a gorgeous day, grab a coffee and sit in a park. Go for a hike. Breathe some fresh air. I’m fortunate that the part of the PNW in which I reside has decentish weather pretty much all the time. And that I find it conducive to my existence. I get that a lot of people don’t live in places where that’s necessarily true. Taking a long walk in central Texas in August doesn’t sound delightful, and I understand parts of Dallas are dealing with obnoxious amounts of precipitation. Likewise places north of the Mason-Dixon and east of the Rockies after … the autumnal equinox, really. So about now.
What I’m really getting at is shaking up your environment a bit in order to help catalyze the shaking-up that happens when you start kicking around ideas. They will gel, but physical different-ness can help speed the process along, a bit. I say this as all my normal life routines get shaken up by the willful rage of one tiny, adorable creature. (Don’t worry: I got this. Don’t return anger with anger, provide snuggles when necessary, and expose them to logic early. Single parenting is kinda the suck, though, I’ll be honest. Y’all have my utmost respect.) I usually try to write these posts at home on Tuesday morning. I’m doing it today (yesterday) at my usual writing haunt, but in an unusual spot (highly non-ideal for fiction, but adequate for nonfic) and on Monday. And it’s working. More or less.
Okay: to business. How are those sample chapters coming? You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you? HAH! I managed three chapters last week, including a tricky flashback that MC doesn’t know was a flashback, so it’s time for all y’all to pony up.