I’ve been diligently working on writing two very different books for over three months. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy writing enormously, possibly more than sex. This morning (3 am here), I find myself in a stripped-down version of the movie “The Shining,” where Johnny goes nuts. Fellow writers, have any of you become obsessively possessive about your craft? Do you dream of writing? Do you get into your writing so deeply that if someone sighs, it shatters your concentration enough to make you want to scream at them?
I’m there right now. It’s not my husband. It’s not the phone (I turn it off when writing). It’s MY CAT! Oy has to lay right in front of the keyboard and purr, slobber and purr some more before he jumps off in a cloud of cat hair. I’m a tough lady who’s gone through lots of horrible stuff. You’d think I’d have the ability to easily shove the dang cat off my desk – nope, I can’t. Attached is a picture of him.
I think I’m going to cough up a hairball.