I swear, the past 2 weeks have been pure hell Earth. I have not had time to scratch my nethers let alone do any blogging. My writing is in upheaval of a good but frantic kind, Spawnetta is moody, Damien and The Omen are on a mission to drive me insane, my DH is doing as much as possible to do as little as possible and I have been brainstorming like a mad woman. I have at least 4 new ideas written down (and maybe partially researched, shhhh don’t tell anyone)for when I finish this year of rewrite/revise/finish.
Speaking of craziness, who took my adorable preteen daughter and left me with the mouthy hormonal alien? The child who begged to wear a bra at age three now needs one and you would think I am using Chinese water torture when I make her wear it now. It is a cotton sports bra, Chickie, get over it. You will be wearing one from now until the grave. Suck it up. And stop bawling like a sick calf. All I said was you needed to comb your hair. I did not call you ugly, I did not imply you are dirty and I certainly never said I was ashamed to be seen with you.
On second thought, if your don’t blow your nose and dry up the tears, I WILL be ashamed to take you into public. I think it is time to introduce Little Chick to the wonders of Midol.Does Midol work on boys? Damien needs some if it does. He wasn’t this clingy as a baby. Omen just strips and runs through the house in his underwear and pirate hat, demanding I walk the plank at his whim.
I told my hubby that I wanted a drug that gave me more energy, made me need less sleep, stirred my imagination, and made me lose weight. He didn’t even look up from his laptop before replying, “Honey, that is speed and it is illegal.”
Okay, so yeah, maybe not then but but but… I am one third of the way through my year long To-do list, so I am on track but the rest of the year is sitting there like a fire breathing dragon, waiting for me. I want to create, not REcreate. Have I mentioned I hate rewrites?
Why is it I get these creative bursts when I am overworked/overstressed? Is it a defense mechanism or something? Does my mind need to escape of be fried? I think so.
Ahhh, the tribulations of a writer. Gotta be a plot line in there somewhere.