Once upon a time on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas), I woke up to Buffy Pup laying on the floor and looking rather exasperated.
By “it,” I can only assume she was referring to the book I’ve been working on these last couple months. Sure, two months isn’t a horrible amount of time for book completion. One might say two months is quite quick. But when there are other books to write and much distraction is needed, sometimes finishing the first project opens up all sorts of room for the next.
Buffy knows I meant to finish it by last week (or even before), and she’s quite disgusted with my slovenly lack of attempts.
At this point, Willow looked up from sneaking a lick of my empty cereal bowl.
She seemed to agree with Buffy that the writing of this new WIP was taking A Very Long Time. Two months to a kitten and a puppy is a quite interminable amount of time. To them, it’s like a year. And they made no secret of how silly they think it is that I’ve been hovering around the last quarter of it for Three Entire Weeks.
Then Willow perked up and asked, “Mom. If it’s Boxing Day, are you going to get me MOAR BOXES to play in?”
At this point, Buffy had gone to sleep to wait for me to finish the book and didn’t much care about a conversation concerning boxes she is too large to fit into comfortably. Willow quite liked the idea of an Entire Day devoted to boxing things up, including small kitties who fancy exploring such things.
Unfortunately, I then had to break the news to her that there would be no arrival of gifts and their inevitable boxes, as Boxing Day is not much celebrated in this country. More’s the pity, because I actually do work in the service industry.
Her reaction was almost deliciously meme-like.
Buffy woke up, perhaps brightened by the idea that she wouldn’t have to be jealous of Willow getting a large number of boxes to play in when Buffy has tried and failed so many times to enjoy such a past time.
She trundled over and looked at me very seriously.
“You’re always staring at the black foldy box thing and making it go click-click-click. But you still haven’t finished your damn book, and I’m not getting any younger.”
“I’m blogging,” I told her. “In fact, today you’re one of the stars of my blog post.”
She brightened a bit at that, then shook her head and roo-rooed at me.
And then she continued, “You’re not clicky-clicky-ing on the right thing, Mom. Finish your book so you can take me out to pounce the white stuff outside again.”
I don’t think Buffy quite realizes how long it takes to do what she wanted me to do, but shhh, don’t tell her. Besides, the snow that fell last night will likely be gone in a few hours. I also don’t think she understands that finishing this book will not, in fact, result in her eating filet mignon every night. (She got a taste of prime rib fat last night and has become a bit overbearing about the quality of her normal food.)
Both Buffy and Willow had a point, however. If, for the past month I had been say, writing 1000 words a day on my book instead of blogging, it would be done by now, softly simmering on the shelf while I plot and plan the next one.
Not that I don’t love blogging, gentle viewers. I do. Quite a lot. And I’ve a number of things planned for 2013 that shall be (I hope) exciting. However, the critters are right. It’s time for me to get this book done.
So, that is my Boxing Day announcement. Due in part to the fact that I am having to pick up a lot of work shifts and thus give up my days off this week, I have a lot less time. I shall return after the new year (possibly to regale you with tales of Louis C.K., who we are going to see on New Year’s Eve). When I do, I shall have another completed book in tow.
See you next week!
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