All Work and No Play, Yadda, Yadda, Yaddy …
Yes, I know. I should be bent over my keyboard doing more edits on Forbidden. Okay, confession time here. I haven’t done anything on Forbidden for weeks. Ouch! I felt that burn of the wet noodle you’re lashing against my lazy fingers. Hold on. I have an excuse. Well, a semi-valid excuse.
My dear editor, Gary Nilsen, is slaving over my manuscript. He’s taken the entire 440 pages so he can get the complete picture of the plot and characters. We had been working on it, chapter by chapter. Recently, he explained that he works on it during train trips. “Train trips,” I hollered. “You’re working while on a train trip.” Guilt gurgled to the forefront. I had put a wee bit of pressure on Gary earlier about my timeline to get my manuscript to the publisher. However, he quickly reassured me that these trips are not TRIPS. The train is his mode of transportation to and from work. I’m impressed with his dedication.
So, while my manuscript is receiving the once over by Gary’s red pen, I’ve been taking a bit of leisure time. Don’t look at me like that! Sure I could be doing some polishing on previously edited pages. My conscience has been doing a shame, shame number on me. Trust me, I know I’m going to regret indulging in some play time. Especially this summer when I’m scheduled to do a pitch at the When Words Collide Convention in Calgary. August is not that far away. Four months to get Forbidden to shine, shine, shine. Do you think I’m being reckless?
When I wrote The Guardian’s Wildchild, I took a year sabbatical. The months went by so quickly due to chaos in my personal life. It felt terrifying to think I might be losing the passion for the story, perhaps forget everything I learned about writing. I’d left the main characters in a terrible predicament, felt their icy stare every time I passed by the dusty keyboard. However, the day came when I felt that incredible pull to finish the story. The passion returned full force. I resumed writing and it felt like there had been no intervening time warp.
I’m hoping you’ll understand my writing getting sidetracked, if only for another week. Sammy and I will be getting gussied up, glitzed and glammed to impress the conformation judges. Yes, it’s a dog show and, yes, we are required to wear our Sunday best. It’s a bit costly with entry fees, purchase of a nice outfit, and vet costs to ensure his vaccinations are current. Hotel fees, gas for the Beast (vehicle), and boarding for Leo (killer cat). Here is a photo of Sammy during last year’s competition. My beautiful boy, so intelligent and loving. My best pal.