Fritterin'

[desperance]

Oh, lor'. I am so supposed to be working. Indeed, I'm coming over all Alf Doolittle: I'm willing to work, I'm wanting to work, I'm waiting to work. And then something else comes up. It might be an e-mail that needs an answer; it might be a cat looking for company; it might be someone phoning with arrangements for the weekend; most recently it was a packet of proofs from the States.

Which caused me suddenly to realise: I have proofs to check, for the paperback edition of Bridge of Dreams; I am awaiting proofs of the hardback of its sequel, "River of the World"; I am awaiting agent's response on the book I've just finished (and having ideas for its sequels, should we get so far); and I am knee-deep in the proposal for my next big project. And I so don't like multitasking.

Also, I keep shopping. I usually do buy myself a treat (or two) at the end of a book; I wasn't so organised this time, because the book's not a commission and we might never sell it, but the buying-gene seems to have kicked in, sort of randomly. (This may also be something to do with my having money - briefly! - in the bank; the delivery portion of the advance for "River" just arrived last week. Um, three and a half months after I delivered. So it goes.) I keep going to town for Necessary Things and coming back with Superfluities. Most of them have been books (yes, yes, I know, no book is superfluous by nature; I do wonder, though, whether some might be so in context. Specifically, in the context of this house, which does contain a phenomenon of books already), but my favourite is yesterday, where I went shopping for gluten-free crackers and came home with two dustbins.

[Note to self: cease and desist this carrying big and awkward objects home from town; it hurts at the time, and it hurts subsequently. Also, ow!]

Or, of course, it might be an LJ-meme that distracts me, or just an update. I am suddenly very distractable, is what I'm saying. Maybe I need a break.

Maybe I'll give up this trying-to-write meme, and take the proofs to the pub. Failure is so disappointing (and I don't really understand this sudden unenthusiasm: I've got a boy!! on a pirate ship!! and they're about to have an adventure!! in the fog!!! - how can I conceivably feel so disengaged?). I need to be at the pub by five anyway, because friends are coming and we're going out for dinner; I may as well get a head start and some appearance of virtue.

Comments

[handworn.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for mentioning Alf Doolittle; now I have "I'm Gettin' Married In The Mornin'" stuck in my head.