by Janis Patterson
I am among the blessed – I have a number of very good
friends who are – in the main – proud and supportive of my work. Most of the
time.
Except – I don’t think any of them really understands how much
pure work and concentration writing a novel and then self-publishing it entails.
They will call me just to chat or say ‘let’s go to lunch’ or do whatever – most
of which I really enjoy, but there are sometimes you just don’t interrupt the
Muse when she’s cooperating. Or when you have a deadline. Or when you are doing
the intricate dance of getting a book arranged just so before it’s sent to the
formatter. Somehow at those times the thought of something so pleasant is
either a snare and a lure that must be avoided, or a plain bloody nuisance.
There are those writers who through necessity or natural inclination can turn
their writing on and off at will. I am not and never have been one.
At times I have simply resigned from the world – turned off
both the landline and my cell, so I can live in blissful solitude. Until one
dear person – who does have a history of over-reacting – drove by the house when
I hadn’t answered the phone after several calls, saw my car and knew that I’m
supposed to be home, so she stopped and pounded on the door to make sure that I
was all right. The first time this happened I swallowed my anger and tried to
be gracious. All subsequent times I was… well, less than gracious. She hasn’t
done that in a long time now.
My late mother was a master at this. She’d call and when I
told her I had been working she’d say “I’ll just take a minute of your time…” I
could never understand that once you’re interrupted the thought is broken and
it makes no difference if the interruption is two minutes or two days. It
breaks the flow. Even when I told her to get a spool of sewing thread, pull off
a length and then cut it. No matter if you put the cut ends an inch apart or a
mile apart, it was still cut. Her response? “Well, why are you so testy about
being interrupted if all you’re doing is sewing?” That was the only time in my
life I ever simply hung up on her. At that moment it was the more polite of my
impulses. (Oh, but how I do wish she could call and interrupt me again, just so
I could hear her voice just one more time!)
It’s hard to say no – especially repeated times – when dear
friends whine “But I haven’t seen you in so long! We haven’t been able to talk
for ages!” after I have explained for the umpteenth time that I have to work,
that I have deadlines. These friends (all now retired from their jobs) would
never be so pushy about me taking time off from an office job, but since I work
at home obviously they think I don’t have a ‘real’ job and can run and play at
will. Sigh.
However this unconscious war against my work ethic has taken a new turn.
One dear friend of many years was concerned that working so much might just
wear my brain out (I love her, but she is something of a ditz) after I had casually mentioned that sometimes the writing was so intense that I had to take a short break
with a quick game of solitaire or backgammon – sort of a clear-the-decks reset.
I know that’s not advocated in writing circles, but it works for me. So this
darling lady thought I needed something besides solitaire and backgammon and – knowing
I love jigsaw puzzles – sent me a link to an on-line jigsaw site where they
have all kinds of puzzles with all kinds of pictures in sizes from 9 pieces to
over 500+ pieces. Nirvana!
What she didn’t realize is that self-control is perhaps my
weakest – or perhaps most non-existent – virtue. The siren song of those
multi-colored scraps is overwhelming and I find myself playing more than I
should. More than anyone should. I’m going to have to pull the URL off my
computer (which will really do no good, since I have it memorized) and then go
to her house for a little ‘talk’ – hoping I don’t become overly excited in the
process.
At least, I will as soon as I finish this newest puzzle.
It’s 480 pieces and a glorious picture of the Duomo…
