The other morning, my oh so brave German Shepherd, Big, crammed himself under my desk so that he might lay at/on my feet. If you know Big, you know we call him that for a reason and it isn't irony. Big doesn't really fit under the desk (he usually sleeps on the daybed) but he did it anyway, shoving all 130 pounds into a teeny tiny little space so that he might look up at me with his big reddish brown eyes (he has an eye disease) as if to say, "Where the hell have you been, lady?"
The answer is here. I've been here. Sitting at this desk, firmly ensconced in the land of the endless edits. I'm working my way through Effigy as I work toward that publication goal.
My level of enthusiasm for this project has been doing the ebb and flow thing since the start of the year. One minute, I'm totally psyched and positive and feeling groovy (I've been listening to some Simon and Garfunkel) but if you checked back ten minutes later, you'd find me under my desk crying into a pint of Ben & Jerry's (Phish Food, in case you wondered...).
I assume such mood swings are normal because the alternative is to assume they're not normal and I don't really have time to have a sit down in depth conversation with myself to ascertain my exact level of insanity.
Because I have work to do. Because I'm thinking I might be serious about getting this project done and out into the world.
We're coming up on that time of year (yeah, I know we're only two weeks into the year) when I start backsliding on that whole "resolutions" gig. I make excuses why I can't go running (my shin splints hurt) or why I can't clean the clutter out of the hall closet (my shin splints hurt). I make excuses for why I must eat my weight in chocolate chip cookies or some other form of chocolaty junk food goodness (my shin splints hurt?) instead opting for a healthier choice.
And I usually start backsliding in my writing goals too. Only this year, I haven't. I've been working with the laser focus of a slightly less distracted person. I'm playing far less Minesweeper and solitaire. I'm doing far less laundry and housekeeping (I think clean clothes are overrated). I even cut out watching television. I mean, not completely. Let's not get crazy. I'm still watching The Vampire Diaries. (I'm publishing a book; I'm not dead.)
So yes, it would seem I've turned my family into a group of orphans (Let's just hope I get this project done before they turn to pickpocketing.).
But I think, when it's all said and done, it'll be worth it.
I hope the rest of the fam thinks so too.