Writers have lives, loved ones, and all that goes with them. And this is the year things got worse before they got better.
Our kitteh household was grievously upset. Jane had a long period of getting sick before she got so sick she nearly fell over in the garden. I was supposed to be through with this book in June. That didn’t happen. I struggled during all this emotional upheaval just to remember where I was, plan where I was going with the story, and just do it. When Jane got better, she wasn’t ready to do creative work: that had really spiralled badly, because when you’re functioning on low oxygen, you just can’t, and she had been, for maybe six months before we caught it. So she was having karmic issues over how behind she was, yet still wasn’t ready to start a creative push—just still didn’t quite have that kind of energy. So she took after the round-tu-its, and started doing physical work to get stronger, and I was to just keep at it and get this book finished.
Jane did a brilliant job on the repairs, working tremendously long hours. I didn’t do so great on the book. And I knew it. I was losing it. And knew I was losing it. The karma from that was piling up and I was trying harder just to get it going—but the thing was shedding pieces by the hour. Since March—97 pages, won 3 to 20 lines at a time—and showing it. I ripped out 20 pages and revised. It got worse.
I finally decided there was nothing for it but to go back and rewrite. Jane had planned for weeks to go skating yesterday—and I had to hit her with the truth of where I am, and how it’s not going, after all she’s done around the house to keep me writing. Well, she agreed we weren’t going skating yesterday; and that we’re going to get some things done—she and I will be doing some Closed Circle stuff I was stuck on, too, and most of all—I went all the way back to the beginning of the story and started over in a massive rewrite.
Now, I’m the person who wrote Cuckoo’s Egg in two weeks. Granted, I’d been bitten by a spider and given a steroid dose that would have an elephant in the treetops. Sleep? I didn’t, much; but the uninterrupted concentration was something else. It was roughed in 2 weeks and edited on a plane flight and an airport delay. That’s what I can do.
Yesterday I got 41 good pages. I’m going to have to toss about 50 pages…[the 40 pages include some new material]…but I am now head-together, focussed, and no longer having to weld a zebra, a lion, and a wildebeast into one creature. This is a book. It’s working. Anyone who believes the writing life involves a mountain cabin, a tweed jacket, and an Irish Setter, with long walks in the woods—has not a clue.
So great sigh of relief around here. And a much better go of it.
Lol. Alas, it’s the dander that gets me, though well-washed poodles are about the best. And the fact that I absolutely do not read dogs and can never tell if they’re going to attack. I’ve always said I’d far rather pick my moment to stroll past a pride of lions on wildebeest shopping day than deal with a dog pack. Cats are absolutely communicative. I know what they want, what they’ll do, which way they’ll move, where their territory is and when I’m pushing it, no problem. Dogs have always been a complete cipher to me, and frankly, there are only two animals on the planet that spook me: not snakes, spiders, poisonous fish, or rats. One is dogs of any sort, if I’m having to work with them or help them, that sort of thing. I’m just convinced I’m going to get bitten, which probably doesn’t help at all–and quite frequently, yep, I do. I have a friend with a rather over-friendly large dog, who is to all appearances a nice dog, but he spooks at a lot of things, and I never believe he won’t panic and bite for no good reason. Ysabel bites, you say? Yep. But I absolutely know when she’s going to do it. 😉
Yup. As I said, it is absolutely home cooking with regard to breed and species.
The experiences both CJ & Haika have had are interesting, don’t you think?
Myself I prefer dogs, though I think I can “read” cats too, at least to some extent. (I suppose Asperger’s has some compensations, like Temple Grandin.) My issue there is “why?” They so often don’t want to associate with humans, though dogs always do.
I also agree with most of what Haika said relating to different breeds of dogs. I once read a book called “How to Pick Your Puppy”, in which a panel of judges, breeders, and trainers rated about 40 breeds on a couple dozen different characteristics, e.g. affability (Labs), dominance (Akita). Alas, I guess it’s long out of print. Breeding is also critical, as noted.
My last was a dobie I named Pearl. She’d been chained on a pinch collar before I got her out of the pound at 7-8 months, leaving her with a ring of spots of white hairs around her neck, her pearl necklace. She also had a ridge of reverse-growing hair on her neck from shoulders to crown–think Rhodesian Ridgeback. That was surely to be alarming so first thing I took her for obedience training–a snap to train. She was also very intelligent, and always seemed to want to do what she could understand of I wanted her to do. I figured her for about 2 year-old human equivalent, except she didn’t have the 2 year-old’s burgeoning sense of self that makes them say “No!” to suggestions of what to do. She got a grapefruit-sized tumor in her belly, so I had to have her put down. It was all I could do to get myself home, and that not immediately! Haven’t wanted to face that again, nor had the resources for the EOL medical bills.
Dang, why can’t we edit posts? >:( Pearl only lived to about 7. So soon! “I hardly knew ye!”
It hurts so much. I’m seeing Ysabel failing this autumn: she’s ouchy with the arthritis of old age, at going on 15, and she’s cold. She wants to be anywhere there’s warmth—so I’ve put a heating pad on her favorite chair, so she can sleep warm, which will help the aches. I know about those. She’s losing weight, which is a good thing—she was carrying too much, and she enjoys the raw turkey, which is helping her shed some bad poundage, which also helps her joints. She’s cantankerous with Seishi—she sees him wanting my attention, and she doesn’t like that, but Shu’s rowdiness would have done her in this summer. He’d hit her like a ton of bricks, wanting to play, and we had to get Seishi to protect her from the stress of that little live wire. He does. But she also knows he’s moving in on her territory, and that’s hard. I’m very careful of the politics. Seishi needs his time, but she has her Brushing at dawn, she gets fed when she wants, she gets my lap in the evenings, even if her weight hurts my leg…she’s my buddy, and that’s just the way it is. It’s more than owe her: I love her little cranky self, every bit. I love Seishi too—he hasn’t an aggressive bone in his body, while she is still Miss Cuisinart, Peaches Queen of the Universe; and that’s the way it is.
We take our pleasure with our pets when and where we can. This afternoon was delightful. I was well at work on my own novel for the first time in many weeks of classes starting and a conference paper to write. Snoozing by the sunny window sill by my side was our, yes — now old Froggie cat but the heart medication he is currently on has momentarily at least calmed his medical problems arisen after his brother’s death and he is mostly eating too. Below the window on the rug also snoozing was young Mao Tse-Tung (my that kitten can sleep when it isn’t “my that kitten can sprint”), at ease and not badgering Froggie. Behind my chair were our two, now quite old (9 1/2 out of a ~10 year life span) bunnies, relaxed too because the chasey kitten was not, and “smooshing” each other. Bunnies love to nuzzle and groom each other and burrow their faces into the other bun’s chest. And my novel was coming together with new ideas and connections I had not solved before. We take our pleasure in simple moments.
Raesean – After I lost my first Siberian at age 16 years 8 months of age, I was a mess. I NEED to have a dog. So, while I waited for my next canine friend to appear in my life, I got a fawn rex rabbit who I named Fido (dog replacement…get it??). I’d had rabbits before, but couldn’t really enjoy them as much since Siberians and small prey-type critters don’t get along well. Now I could learn rabbit-behaviors! My next dog ended up being a rough collie (given to me by a wise co-worker who was a rough collie breeder married to the regional AKC rep), and rabbits/collies did fine while supervised. I enjoy rabbits and wish I could have them, but I no longer keep them as I’m not able to provide them the social interaction they need. And when it comes down to it, I’d rather have dogs than rabbits (sigh).
There’s nothing quite like seeing a bunny hop across your living room floor when you’re stressed out — or seeing two bunny ears bobbing up from behind a piece of furniture! Not that the sight tops the wagging love of a dog or purr of a cat on your lap if you are a dog or cat person, but still nothing quite like that bunny sighting to destress.
We got our old cat, Penelope, a heated kitty bed, and I think it helped her through one last winter. The problem with the generic heating pad is that it can easily get too hot. Even when it had been plugged-in for hours, this bed was not hot to my touch. The one we had was just right for Penelope to curl-up in; so, it was kitty-warm even when not plugged-in.
Of course, if any of your furry family chew, something that plugs into the electric mains may not be a wise idea…
One of my students had a bunny. He was huge. What bunnies have in common with sharks: falling asleep when rolled over. What bunnies don’t have in common with sharks: digging trenches. Their back yard was a mine field of trenches. But he was a very funny, loveable bunny, kind of calico with one floppy ear. I really liked him: but he had a kick like a mule when he wanted free.
Re the heating pad: I’ve got it padded and it has a 20 minute limit…modern ones tend to; but I know somewhere around here I have one of those warming pet beds. I just can’t find the thing. I got it one cold winter and the cats all disdained it, that year. But Ysabel will take the heating pad now: and her sunbeam in the afternoon; and me, at night. That little rascal, about 8 lbs, twice threw me out of bed when she was younger. Just claimed the center, braced those little feet and started shoving.