Alone, upstairs, every day starts fresh, like this--
Goal: Revise twenty pages of current WIP.
Motivation: This is it! I know this is the one! This new story is going to open the door to publishing for me!
Conflict: So much chaos to control. (Thanks, Get Smart!)
Reality attacks the minute I exit the bubble, like this--
Descend stairs with an empty coffee cup and sheets to be washed. Eeek! Toilet paper strewn at the bottom of the stairs explains my husband’s last overheard remark before heading to the office: “Where’d you get that?”
I knew he wasn’t speaking to me. Now I know he was speaking to the puppy.
And no, the man with two hands and a strong back did not pick up the soggy wads of tp. Puppy now lies flat on his side, sweetly sleeping with a faint smile on his black doggy lips.
Drop the sheets in front of the laundry door. Set the coffee cup by the pot. Empty packet of sweetener into cup. Turn the warmer back on. Grab trash bag. Pick up rubbish. Throw bag down to lower stair landing for later retrieval. Neaten what remains of the tp roll. Stash it in the cabinet above the back of the toilet in guest bath.
No, DH, you didn’t find the roll there because we’d run out. It was there because so much tp has been victimized lately. It’s the tp-protection plan.
Return to counter to pour second cup of coffee. Honestly can’t remember whether I already sprinkled in the sweetener or not. Examine swill in bottom of cup. Residue indicates: probably. Pour cup. Taste. Fine.
To washer. Drop in whites. Looks like a two-load day. Add detergent and fabric softener.
There’s recycling on the counter waiting to go downstairs. And a drool-spotted floor to be mopped before guests arrive for the weekend.
Draw the line.
Until next human, animal, or machine interruption, write.
Arrrgh! Left reading glasses upstairs. Fetch. (Oooohhh--probably have already burned off one serving of coffee creamer!)
Now. Really. Writing.
That’s how it goes for me. What about you? Do you have any tricks or tips that help you settle down to work?