I’m feeling the pressure. I’ve set a deadline for finishing the final draft of my novel at three weeks from now. I need to work on my pitch before I meet with the agent. Anybody that thinks getting published is easy should actually try writing a book. This is my fourth. Actually, I like being under pressure. Meeting a deadline keeps me even more focused than my usual always focused self. Thank God I love what I do. I always wanted a job where I actually got paid to do what I loved. I’m still waiting.
When I’m not writing this blog, ya’ll know where I’ve been then, and it’s working on the novel. Last night I was doing research and put it into written form today. Seeing a story coming together is so exciting. It’s like making music when you know you’ve got the beat, the vocals, and the sound all mixed to perfection. I’m going to feel really sad when the book is done and published because I will have to say goodbye to some of the characters I’ve come to feel an affection for on its pages. Some I say, because I plan on creating a series using two of the characters from the current book. At some point, I’ll be moving
on to another story, and possibly to another location.
So, I may as well do as much damage while I’m still here. Like yesterday…I saw a middle-aged, sixty-ish couple walking towards the front desk as they got off the elevator from the parking garage. The man was carrying what looked like a black, rubber plunger. I made the comment to Confidante that I wondered why he was carrying a plunger. Now, don’t
tell me to do something unless you mean it. “Why don’t you just ask him?” Confidante suggested. Seeing as how I was going up on the elevator anyway, I rode along with them. When the doors closed I said, “Having a plumbing problem, are we?” The man looked at me, and I pointed to the plunger. His wife went silent. Fortunately, the man had a sense of humor. It seems he had a prosthetic leg, and the thing I mistook for a plunger, was in fact what he put on his stump after he took off his prosthesis.“Oh, well that’s good,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you realized that’s what we had a maintenance department for.” We got off the elevator on the same floor and walked in the same direction. That’s when I realized they were the couple in the room next to me. The loud-speaker room. The room I’d overheard heavy breathing coming from shortly after they'd checked in that morning. I had assumed they were doing it, you know. Now I’m wondering if all the grunting I’d heard was simply the poor guy trying to get his leg on, or off. Or, maybe they were doing it, and it was just getting in the way. My bad.
When I’m not writing this blog, ya’ll know where I’ve been then, and it’s working on the novel. Last night I was doing research and put it into written form today. Seeing a story coming together is so exciting. It’s like making music when you know you’ve got the beat, the vocals, and the sound all mixed to perfection. I’m going to feel really sad when the book is done and published because I will have to say goodbye to some of the characters I’ve come to feel an affection for on its pages. Some I say, because I plan on creating a series using two of the characters from the current book. At some point, I’ll be moving
on to another story, and possibly to another location.
So, I may as well do as much damage while I’m still here. Like yesterday…I saw a middle-aged, sixty-ish couple walking towards the front desk as they got off the elevator from the parking garage. The man was carrying what looked like a black, rubber plunger. I made the comment to Confidante that I wondered why he was carrying a plunger. Now, don’t
tell me to do something unless you mean it. “Why don’t you just ask him?” Confidante suggested. Seeing as how I was going up on the elevator anyway, I rode along with them. When the doors closed I said, “Having a plumbing problem, are we?” The man looked at me, and I pointed to the plunger. His wife went silent. Fortunately, the man had a sense of humor. It seems he had a prosthetic leg, and the thing I mistook for a plunger, was in fact what he put on his stump after he took off his prosthesis.“Oh, well that’s good,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you realized that’s what we had a maintenance department for.” We got off the elevator on the same floor and walked in the same direction. That’s when I realized they were the couple in the room next to me. The loud-speaker room. The room I’d overheard heavy breathing coming from shortly after they'd checked in that morning. I had assumed they were doing it, you know. Now I’m wondering if all the grunting I’d heard was simply the poor guy trying to get his leg on, or off. Or, maybe they were doing it, and it was just getting in the way. My bad.