How’s This For Funny?

Here is an up-to-the-minute moment in my writer’s life:

This time of year the sun beams into my office around midafternoon. I love it. Unfortunately, today Luna the Loony Dog discovered the warmth also.

On my lap, of course.

Lovely for her. And cutesy for me for about two minutes. On the ground again (in the shade), she wouldn’t leave me alone. In the name of the writing god called revision, I decided to let her have her sun.

On my desk, of course.

I’m whipped. I am SO whipped.

(Thanks goodness she’s smaller than my cat. And thank goodness the cat’s outdoors. He also likes to sunbathe on my desk…)

Bum Glue and the Devil Cat

devil-cat.jpgThis morning — resolute and annoyed — I stepped over drifts of shredded toilet paper and into my office. I would not let the mess distract me from my writing duties. I could clean the mess any old time; let it sit for awhile; let the devil cat from toilet paper hell have yet more fun with his kill if he desired.

I caught him in act last night. He woke me up. Yes, I laughed.

But this morning, giggles were beside the point. I mustn’t, I told myself, clean and vacuum; not yet. I could feel the procrastination mistress within, ever distractible she is, perking up at the thought of not turning on my laptop, not starting chapter 19, not settling into anything except the next chore or trip to the fridge.

I was reminded of a lesson from Write Away, One Novelist’s Approach to Fiction and the Writing Life, by Elizabeth George. She mentions “bum glue,” a little something we writers must possess to keep our bums stuck to our chairs and in front of our writing implements. Ms. George quotes from one of her own journals:

…I suit up and show up. I sit down at the computer and I do the work, moving it forward a sentence at a time, which is ultimately the only way there is to write a book.

sleepy-cat.jpgAs of this moment (4:00 p.m.) the toilet paper is still adrift in the hallway. Amazing how big it gets when off the roll and shredded to bits. It’s the popcorn effect. But that’s okay, because I wrote my pages.

(By the way, I grabbed this shot just before I turned on the computer this morning. Looks like mauling the toilet paper tuckered the poor dude out, doesn’t it? Rough life.)