Imagine a pile of bricks. Imagine a bricklayer determined to build a beautiful wall from those bricks. Now imagine the bricklayer attempting to construct that wall by strapping on a helmet, tying his hands behind his back, and bashing into the pile of bricks head-first, over and over and over.
Pretty much it.
After chores and before beginning the writing day, I butchered a chicken. It’s a meat chicken, healthy enough until yesterday when it lost the ability to walk. This despite it being free-range and not all that big. But I’ve learned the hard way that once their legs give out, it’s just a slow decline and you also wind up with a bird you wouldn’t want to eat. So off I went behind the pole barn. Didn’t take too long, although it helped that last night before going to bed I made a quick review of this site.
Upside? While plucking the chicken I worked out a paragraph transition, which I will apply myself to right now.
A recent email from my editor encouraged me to finish my next book so it can be out in time for next spring. Portions of this encouragement were delivered in ALL CAPS. So I’m holed up and hunkered down (in between rehearsals for this, this, and this), typing like sixty. This is the stretch of time I try to remember when I’m out there rambling around and rambling on about my Art, how when I am finally forced to get with the program and FINISH my Art, it is my wife and family and friends (this summer in particular a big extra help from long-time pal Mills) who keep the rest of my life together.
This is a thank you to them. And now I will get back to TYPING.
But I couldn’t get it to upload.
This is when I really got rolling on the writing, finally. Just under three hours of sleep then it was up to fix the chicken coop (the original one, the one on the cover of this book), move the barred rock chicks out of the stock tank and into the repaired coop, clean the stock tank and move in the 50 fluffy yellow meat chicks that arrived today, then move the new coop and chicken fence, then put up pig fence. Never would have finished without the help of my pal Mills, a friend going way back to the “Silver Star” days. We spent the last 30 minutes fencing in a deluge, but got’er done. Yessir. Got’er done.
Now some more writing. And a heart-shaped thought for my wife, who is running the whole show in spite of my ridiculous hours, obsessions, and avocations.
Heading past midnight, up writing. On the book that’s due soon (due to editor…not due in stores/cloud until next spring). Not going super-fast. While dawdling and refreshing Google Blog Search, realized I hadn’t shut the chickens in for the night. So I went out in the dark with my headlamp. Fireflies are at their peak, they must see my headlamp and think I’m juicing. The sixty-some chickens were all at roost. But the two dang ducks had apparently decided to hang out ’til the midnight hour. ‘Round and ’round we went. By the time it was all over, I was ready to go all AFLAC on their tailfeathers. But then they scuttled up the ramp, I dropped the door, and now it’s back to cussing myself as I try to get the words to line up. Sometimes this writing thing is the equivalent of throwing cotton balls at the keyboard.
Book due out in Spring 2012. Pieces due to my editor in weeks. Entire manuscript due in September. The piece you’re looking at may or may not survive. Nope, it doesn’t have a title. They never do, until the very last.
from $8.99
from $13.50
from $13.50