On one hand, I’m proud that this coming Labor Day will mark four years since 500 Acres And No Place To Hide came out. On the other hand, I’m really disappointed that I’ve yet to write another book. I used to be rather prolific, really organized, and hyper-focused. These days I’m the poster woman/wife/mom for manic. One minute I’m at my desk writing, the next I decide to get more coffee, become distracted by the dishwasher, start to unload it but stop because I have a thought I need to write down before I forget, race to my office, pass my son’s room, remember his rugby shorts are in the dryer, dash down to the basement to retrieve them, throw in another load, fold everything, race back upstairs to put it all away only to discover a dirty bowl and spoon on my son’s dresser that sends me back to the kitchen where the half unloaded dishwasher awaits and I smack myself in the head for forgetting about it.
It’s tough to get a book written in this condition.
I have, however, filled dozens of notebooks like those pictured above with essays, snippets of conversations, and random thoughts, and have book ideas, lists of titles, chapter notes, and even entire chapters written and saved in more than two dozen files on my computer. I was looking at a lot of it this morning when it crossed my mind that there might be enough material for a new book. Of course I suddenly needed more coffee, went to the kitchen, decided I’d be much more inspired drinking out of my favorite orange and white coffee mug, couldn’t find it, realized it was in the dishwasher, began unloading the dishwasher and, well, you know the rest.
I’ll look at it all again tomorrow. I plan to make my coffee in my office so I don’t have to go to the kitchen. This should work until I need to use the bathroom, decide the towels need to be washed and if I’m doing them I might as well gather all the laundry, run down to the basement, and, you know, never come back.