Head, Meet Desk
Some days, the words just don't come. Demon Baby is finally over the worst of the croup. I actually have had two (count 'em) nights with more than five hours of sleep. But Oldest Daughter is filling out piles of college applications (each costing between $30 and $100--EACH) and requires my help with them ("What is our income range, Mom?" "Am I the dependent of a military veteran?"--why do they need to know all this?!?). And my father, as mentioned recently, requires a long list of things to make his stay a happy one--bologna (Oscar Mayer ONLY--all fat, all beef . . . this TOTALLY grosses me out), tomato juice, apple crumb pie, ice cream, sherbert, ice cream bars, and beer. So the grocery store it was. The Staurday before Thanksgiving. Why not just line me up at a firing range?
And, in words that are striking mortal terror in both MY heart and mind AND the hearts and minds of family . . . I am cooking a sit-down dinner for 18 for Thanksgiving. Me. Cooking. You can pick yourselves up off the floor now. Thank God that in actuality, my mom will do most of it. I am the sous chef. Plus everyone is asking me "Where are you going to FIT 18 people for a sit-down dinner?" My answer? I have no effing idea.
So this is a head meet desk week. I just want to bang it. Repeatedly. I am reworking a much overdue proposal . . . and I have come to the conclusion for the thousandth time . . . .
It is easier to start from scratch than to seriously reimagine something.
I hate going in and cutting and splicing, versus the free-flow of sitting and typing as it comes out of my brain. It's like cooking. If you taste a soup and it's totally ruined with too much salt . . . you're not going to be able to fix it--at least not to perfection. You have to toss out the soup and start from scratch.
This is different from rewrites and different from edits. Reimagining something requires, at times, excising entire characters. Altering characters in profound ways. I feel like I am in a bog.
Head . . . meet desk.
Anyone else?
And, in words that are striking mortal terror in both MY heart and mind AND the hearts and minds of family . . . I am cooking a sit-down dinner for 18 for Thanksgiving. Me. Cooking. You can pick yourselves up off the floor now. Thank God that in actuality, my mom will do most of it. I am the sous chef. Plus everyone is asking me "Where are you going to FIT 18 people for a sit-down dinner?" My answer? I have no effing idea.
So this is a head meet desk week. I just want to bang it. Repeatedly. I am reworking a much overdue proposal . . . and I have come to the conclusion for the thousandth time . . . .
It is easier to start from scratch than to seriously reimagine something.
I hate going in and cutting and splicing, versus the free-flow of sitting and typing as it comes out of my brain. It's like cooking. If you taste a soup and it's totally ruined with too much salt . . . you're not going to be able to fix it--at least not to perfection. You have to toss out the soup and start from scratch.
This is different from rewrites and different from edits. Reimagining something requires, at times, excising entire characters. Altering characters in profound ways. I feel like I am in a bog.
Head . . . meet desk.
Anyone else?
Labels: frustration
posted by Erica Orloff at 7:58 AM
12 Comments:
My current head count for Thursday is 13, with the possibility for a max of 17. My husband is frying a Turkey, but the rest is on me. And I'm not eating most of it. (I bought a Tofurkey for myself.)
We bought extra chairs last week for the poker table, so hopefully there will be room for everyone to sit. (I have a long window seat in the kitchen. I'd be screwed without it.)
I sound Thankful, huh? lol.
P.S. Got the book yesterday! :) Thank you.
I can't get Stovetop Stuffing where I live. Yams? Germans never heard of them. Cranberries? What's that? Thanksgiving is the loneliest day of the year for me.
That is, unless a blogging buddy just happens to send me a care package filled with Stovetop Stuffing, yams, cranberries, and a dozen other trimmings. Which just happens to have happened. Yippee!
I'm in a sweet spot this month, but I've been frustrated most of the year with writing either being the thing that was pushed aside for other obligations or writing feeling like I was scratching a sculpture out of granite with a sharpened paper clip.
I can't count the number of times in 2007 my husband has caught me hitting my head (gently) against the wall. Taking a walk sometimes helped.
Hang in there.
Jen
Heather:
I'm working on thank thankfulness angle, too.
Enjoy the book. :-)
E
stephen:
How wonderful! What a great care package!
E
Hi Jen:
I know you had a death in the family and travel to contend with . . . not easy carving out that space to write. And for me, too, my proposals and books have been more complex, requiring more of me as a writer--which is a good thing. But bad for the head-banging angle. :-)
E
I think that's one reason Peanuts was so popular. Sometimes we all feel like Charlie Brown trying to kick that football.
I'm sure your dinner will be marvelous.
I'll be at the working at the hospital Thursday. I've decided to fast, and be thankful I'm on the giving end. :)
Thanks to blogging, I'm learning that finishing the last quarter or fifth of something is like two or three weeks of incessantly banging my head on the desk.
Good luck with turkey dinner!
Good luck with the dinner and everything else. It sometimes seems like we have to squeeze in writing, when it should be our job. Life keeps getting in our way. After being sidelined last week with a bum knee, I'm happy it's better and I'll be jumping back into my crazy life.
Jude:
Sometimes I'm Charlie Brown.
Sometimes I'm the football.
E
edie:
I know. When I was an editor in an office . . . I didn't seem to have some of these work issues. It's being home in the thick of things--not that I'd trade it.
E
P.S. Glad your knee is better.
Hi Spy:
Thanks.
I sense impending turkey disaster. But we'll see.
E
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