Lord, y'all, I swear. Or, as my hilarious Aunt Rona would say, I suewannee! (Because old Southern ladies don't swear, doncha know?)
So I was going to write abouut other books that I've been lusting for today, but today's events take precedence. First, the book stuff:
Okay, so remember when I said that Rebel Belle was all flowers and sausages? It was going so well that I decided to take a few days off last week. Okay, so I took the whole week off. I know.
So today, I went back to the coffee shop, bursting with excitement to get back in there with my 2K words/day. I'd ended at a chapter break, and I knew just what was going to happen next, and I couldn't wait to see what Harper (my main character) and Co were up to now. Got my coffee, fired up my laptop, disconnected from the internet, and...
This always happens when I take a few days (or weeks, or months...) off from writing. When I write every day, the words just flow. I walk right up into my book, usually yelling a friendly, "Honey, I'm home!"
I get all comfy on my book-couch and put my feet up on the book-coffee table, and bam! Two thousand words done before I know it. And then, because my book loves me, it makes me a book-sandwich. But that sweet, friendly, loving book? It will turn on you like whoa if you abandon it for a few days. So today, I stood outside my book, frantically jiggling the handle. "Um...honey? Could you, uh, let me in? I seem to have forgoteen my keys."
But my book had changed the locks. Eventually, I manged to pry open a window and slip back into my book, but it just wasn't the same as the days when I walked right in the front door. It was awkward, and uncomfortable, and I'm pretty sure I flashed the neighbors as I fell through the window. Today, there was no book-sandwich, and there certainly weren't thousands of words flowing forth. In fact, I felt so weird and unwelcome that I did something I rarely do: I tried to write a scene from the middle of the book rather than pick up where I left off. Now, I realize that lots of people write books this way, but I am not one of them. I'm waaaaaay to disorganized to try to build a book out of pieces; I have to take the straight path.
But tomorrow will be better. Rebel Belle can't stay mad at me forever, and I figure if I give her attention this evening- my books rarely if ever get any love after 10 AM- she will see that I'm sorry and let me back in. Or else we will end up on COPS, so, either way, win-win!
Now onto the ear rape.
After a disappointing morning of writing, I decided to get my grocery shopping done. Back when I worked a regular, 9-5 (well, 7-4) job, I used to envy people who got to do their shopping early on weekdays. But now that I am one of those people, I'm here to tell you that things are a little...off early in grocery stores before noon.
First of all, our local Kroger apparently just received a HUGE shipment of those stupid cinnammon brooms. I have no idea who buys these things. I think my mom had one once, but that was in, like, 1985. If any of you readers are cinnammon broom afficianados, please tell me why, for they are HEINOUS. Seriously, my eyes started watering as soon as I walked in the door, that's how overpowering they were.
Then, as if that weren't bad enough, one of the Kroger employees was clearly having self-esteem issues, because about ten minutes after I got there, the sound system started blaring- and I mean, really blaring. As in way above the normal volume for Muzak in grocery stores blaring- Whitney Houston's "The Greatest Love of All."
Yeah. VOMIT. And it was SO loud! So loud that this little old lady next to me in frozen foods and I just looked at each other with identical expressions of "WTF?" (Okay, I was thinking WTF? The little old lady was probably thinking whatever the little old lady version of that is, like, "Gracious! What is this odd occurence?")
"I need an adult!"
I ended up skipping half the stuff on my list just because I had to get out of there NOW. Big stupid Kroger.
So now I'm home again, back in my comfy clothes, and wondering whether it would make Rebel Belle happy if I were to eat a slice of pie. I think it might.
To all of my readers who are also writers, have you ever had this problem? Not the ear rape- although if you have been ear-raped and need to talk about it, please feel free- but that weird feeling of not being able to get back "in" to your work?