Hell
I am not sitting here in a lake of fire, but I am in Deadline Hell.
And, I'll soon be announcing something cool . . . but . . . I can at least share I am now officially in Development Hell.
No lake of fire, no man with red skin and horns and spiked tail. But what does Deadlien Hell look like?
Well, author Heather Brewer has blogged about and reminded me here on my own blog that taking care of yourself while in Deadline Hell is a good idea. Take a break, go for a walk, eat well, drink plenty of fluids. I love what I've seen of her upcoming book, but I am here to tell you I don't follow her advice. Not that's it's BAD advice, just that I am BAD at following it.
So, for the record, this is Deadline Hell: stay up until 1:00 a.m., go to sleep, but too stressed to sleep. Mind races. Wake up groggy at seven when that 16-month-old demon of mine reminds me he wants to get out of his crib and eat. Stumble to coffee pot. Press the button--PRESS THE BUTTON LIKE DETONATING THE A-BOMB! Wait for coffee. Pour coffee, brain starts working. Sit baby in highchair with Cheerios, sit own ass in desk chair. Start writing. Wait! No, best re-read what I wrote last night. Discover I was deusional last night. Fix the various typos and nonsensical crap. NOW start writing fresh. Work for eight hours straight, maybe more, until bleary-eyed and that pinched nerve now has me hunched over. Eat standing up in kitchen. Remember I have four children. Discover left to own devices that there is now a lake of Cheerios on kitchen floor, and the house has a smell like. . . yes, unwashed smelly dog let into house with muddy paws. After two-minute dinner "break" (standing up, and for the record lunch is a pipe dream), decide I need a glass of wine to get kink out of shoulders. Have "happy hour" and sit back down and write for many more hours, stopping to remind children they will turn into pumpkins unless they go to bed. Kisses and hugs to said children, checking that they have not labeled baby with permanent marker. Baby is OK except for the flower drawn in WASHABLE (thank God) marker around his belly button.
Work until I drop.
Start all over again. Press replay.
Now, just so you all know, my office is open on two sides--it's this very cool room (I'll have to post new office photo). So in actuality all of the above is punctuated by having to stop every few minutes because my kids are running through my office, talking to me, and so on. I have mastered the art of "uh-huh" while still typing.
And if all this sounds nuts, it is. But the other side of it is once Deadline Hell is reached . . . I get to play hooky, which is infinitely more fun. So the frenetic pace sometimes happens. And sometimes . . . life is really laid back, but either way it's not nine-to-five.
So welcome to Hell. Anyone else care to describe their Lake of Fire?
And, I'll soon be announcing something cool . . . but . . . I can at least share I am now officially in Development Hell.
No lake of fire, no man with red skin and horns and spiked tail. But what does Deadlien Hell look like?
Well, author Heather Brewer has blogged about and reminded me here on my own blog that taking care of yourself while in Deadline Hell is a good idea. Take a break, go for a walk, eat well, drink plenty of fluids. I love what I've seen of her upcoming book, but I am here to tell you I don't follow her advice. Not that's it's BAD advice, just that I am BAD at following it.
So, for the record, this is Deadline Hell: stay up until 1:00 a.m., go to sleep, but too stressed to sleep. Mind races. Wake up groggy at seven when that 16-month-old demon of mine reminds me he wants to get out of his crib and eat. Stumble to coffee pot. Press the button--PRESS THE BUTTON LIKE DETONATING THE A-BOMB! Wait for coffee. Pour coffee, brain starts working. Sit baby in highchair with Cheerios, sit own ass in desk chair. Start writing. Wait! No, best re-read what I wrote last night. Discover I was deusional last night. Fix the various typos and nonsensical crap. NOW start writing fresh. Work for eight hours straight, maybe more, until bleary-eyed and that pinched nerve now has me hunched over. Eat standing up in kitchen. Remember I have four children. Discover left to own devices that there is now a lake of Cheerios on kitchen floor, and the house has a smell like. . . yes, unwashed smelly dog let into house with muddy paws. After two-minute dinner "break" (standing up, and for the record lunch is a pipe dream), decide I need a glass of wine to get kink out of shoulders. Have "happy hour" and sit back down and write for many more hours, stopping to remind children they will turn into pumpkins unless they go to bed. Kisses and hugs to said children, checking that they have not labeled baby with permanent marker. Baby is OK except for the flower drawn in WASHABLE (thank God) marker around his belly button.
Work until I drop.
Start all over again. Press replay.
Now, just so you all know, my office is open on two sides--it's this very cool room (I'll have to post new office photo). So in actuality all of the above is punctuated by having to stop every few minutes because my kids are running through my office, talking to me, and so on. I have mastered the art of "uh-huh" while still typing.
And if all this sounds nuts, it is. But the other side of it is once Deadline Hell is reached . . . I get to play hooky, which is infinitely more fun. So the frenetic pace sometimes happens. And sometimes . . . life is really laid back, but either way it's not nine-to-five.
So welcome to Hell. Anyone else care to describe their Lake of Fire?
posted by Erica Orloff at 10:01 AM
10 Comments:
Erica! You need to take better care of yourself in Hell. (I hear they have GREAT hot tubs)
However, eating excessive amounts of chocolate is totally allowed. ;)
Might I suggest Hershey's Kisses?
Hey Heather:
Of course I know you're right. :-) I "had" a system in Hell for quite some time. Then I had this little baby--#4--seven years after the last one. And lo and behold . . . this little guy has thrown off my system entirely. For one thing, I'm lazier and like to be with him 24/7 (not lazy, but not quite so driven). For another, he is a moving demolition man--my others are 16, 10, and 8--they are rather self-sufficient in a lot of ways. He, on the other hand, would gladly suck all signs of life out of me--in a good way. Just has a LOT of energy. He complicates Hell considerably. ;-)
E
Erica: I have notice that if you get a spring surgically implanted in your butt, it makes things a lot more interesting and getting up is easier.
I personally like to use the 'lather, rinse, repeat' metaphore... especially due to the irony in my case :D
I totally understand the hell you speak of, even though I am unpublished, un-agented, etc. I've given myself a deadline to have my WIP edited and presentable for the Backspace conference... yikes!
My day is something on the order of sitting in my cube working on edits while answering phone calls, work emails, dialing into conference calls, running out to the data floor to fix things and coworkers walking into my cube to "talk"...
Then there is also trying to write at home in the evenings while feeding the 2 & 3.5 yro girls, geting them through the bath and bed process, cleaning up the house and the inevitable laundry...
By 9:30 I'm completely fried. I wonder if this ever gets easier. Then I take a "break" and read your blog and decide that it is not going to get easier and resign myself to just having to love where I am because that is the life I have, and it really is wonderful.
la:
HILARIOUS! I think I have that spring.
E
Ewoh:
No, I don't believe it gets easier. It just gets different.
You replace, maybe, "day job" emails with fan email. Fun, lovely, but still a time-consuming process. You replace one day job item for an author-related one. But if you adore what you do, then in some ways, yes, it's easier. There's a spiritual happiness.
As for those kids and bath, bed, and laundry . . . I'm pretty sure I will adopt or have one more or become a foster mom in the next two years. And a long time ago, from the wisdom of an Erma Bombeck column of all things, I learned to love the chaos and embrace the mess. My oldest goes to college in two years. Most days, I will happily pack her bags. But then . . . there will be an empty space at my dinner table. Life changes.
E
Erica: I can't tell you how many times I in the process of sitting and someone will yell for me. Let me tell you that spring comes in very handy.
YOUR Hell, Erica, is my idea of HELL! LOL
I have been a "full-time writer" for exactly five weeks. I have two kids, 11 (as of Monday) and 7, who are fairly self-sufficient and actually help me clean every morning before I set to work. I have a bunch of schedules. I have a huge parrot named Guilt on my right shoulder, pointing out every minute that I'm not making enough money on my writing to pay for the cup of tea I'm drinking, and that's not going to change if I'm spending more time cleaning and driving the kids around to various activities that are supposed to allow me to write. I get Camp Nana every week during the summer, a day and a half with no kids. That's date night (decompression and attention for the hubby) and pure writing time. And in the fall, both kids will be in school all day.
That's HEAVEN! Man, I just READ about the chaos around you, and my body considers having an anxiety attack. I can't even think about doubling the kids and making one a baby.
Obviously, though, it's working for you. You surrounded by love, pretty much guaranteed to have someone to take care of you when you get old, and are putting out many, wonderful books. So don't change a thing! (Not that you were likely to... LOL)
Natalie:
Before we moved, I mentored a teen mom and her baby, and her brother would often come along too. Sometimes her sister. So on those nights, we'd have an extra three or four plates at the table . . . and the chaos intensified. But I would have these moments of clarity. It was pure heaven. You get ONE RIDE through this existence. You might as well go down the hill, hands off the handlebars, kissing the wind and laughing the whole way.
For me, though it's hellish, it's the only way to do it. :-)
E
Seven years between kids? Oh boy, can I relate to that. My son and daughter have seven years betwixt them! It's so worth it, but hoo boy, exhausting. You'll find your routine again soon, hon!
By the way, you should check out Jackie Kessler (http://jackiekessler.blogspot.com). Ewoh and I are big fans. :) Hellions, really.
Post a Comment
<< Home