BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

It came screaming into the world with a -30-, Fin, The End, insert your favorite editorial mark here because some of the symbols don’t seem to want to show up in the blog, tagged on its rear, yesterday afternoon, right about 5:00 PM…

Yeah, that’s right. The latest manuscript is finished, submitted, and all that good stuff. Sent off to “college” with only a virtual suitcase and class schedule (read: date with an editor) as I waved goodbye from behind the keyboard.

One of my friends asked me what it is like to finish a manuscript– Elation, Relief, Joy, Sadness, what? So, I thought I would share the answer here, hence the title of the blog…

Uh-huh…Writing a manuscript for a book, especially one that is contracted and has a deadline, is a lot like giving “intellectual birth.” No, not birthing a really smart kid (although, the Evil One and I managed to do that somehow– Our daughter is brilliant and will probably take over the world by the time she’s thirty, but I’ll brag on her later)… What I mean is, by the time you get to the end of a 100K word manuscript, you are spent. Worn out. Ready to just collapse.

For example, I jump out of bed at 5:15-5:30 every morning. You can almost set your watch by me. Today…Not so much. My feet finally hit the floor around 8:00, and it’s not like I stayed up late celebrating or anything. My celebration took the form of the wife and kid taking me around the corner to the new Mexican place for dinner (so I didn’t have to cook)… That was nice. It was excellent. All was good. But, I went to bed at my regular hour. I was just plain exhausted…

Some may wonder how you can possibly be exhausted by sitting on your ass behind a keyboard and typing for hours on end. Well, I don’t just sit. I get up to go to the bathroom and refill my coffee or tea… (Actually, I do make sure to get activity in, but that’s a different story)…

The real deal is the exhaustion you experience is purely mental fatigue.

(Well, there is the stiffness from sitting in one position, hunching over some research looking up something, the itchy eyes from staring at the screen, the cramps in your hands from typing all day… but this blog is about the mental stuff…)

Remember, when you are writing you are pretty much living with this set of characters. I know that may sound insane, but trust me, that is how it works. You are walking around in a daze for the 4 to 6 months it takes you to tap out the story on your keyboard, and you have a whole host of folks bopping about in your head. Whispering in your ear. Telling you how THEY would do something that you are doing. Letting you know THEY would never eat a Braunschweiger sandwich because it’s yucky… Well, you get the picture.

These imaginary characters become a part of your family, and for a period of time, a good portion of your life. You can’t do anything without thinking, “How would XX respond to this?”… “What would YY do if she was in this situation?”…And, more often than not, they tell you in no uncertain terms. Of course, you are the only one who hears them and that makes you look like you are talking to yourself…So, you try to avoid doing so in public lest the men in white coats come to take you away… The point is, they are with you night and day. You cannot get away from them, and if you try, they chase you down and make your life a nightmare. Why? Because you are supposed to be paying attention to them while they tell their story, and if you ignore them they get pissed.

So, what it comes down to is the feeling when that -30- goes at the end of that last page…

Well, it’s all of them. You run through them just like you would the stages of grief….You feel accomplished, you are elated, you are ecstatic. You are ready for these folks to go back in their box and leave you alone for a while. Then you get worried. Things happened to them in this story. Are they handling it okay? Are they going to make it through without counseling? Are YOU going to make it through without counseling?… Then you are sad…. It’s like houseguests who have been staying with you forever who finally leave. You think you are happy they are gone, then you realize you have grown so accustomed to having them around that you miss them terribly and want them to come back…

So, name an emotion, I’ve probably felt it, or will over the next couple of days… That’s why I warned you in the last blog my brain would be like oatmeal for a while…

It’s a rollercoaster…And, I’m on it right now.

But, you know what? That’s okay… Because, last night I got to sit and have a normal conversation with my wife– That means not once did I stare off into space wondering how Rowan, Felicity, or any of the other characters would respond to the innocuous things being said.

Of course, in a couple of months when I start the next manuscript, I am sure they will be happy to fill me in on what they thought…They always do.

More to come…

Murv

No, not that pain in the a** you get from having too many cats. Although, having too many cats is a definite pain in the a**.

As many of you know, my wife and I have rescued cats for years. They usually come to us as abandoned, abused, special needs, what have you. We take them in and try to find homes for them. We aren’t as active in this as we once were, especially now that I travel so much. However, over the years we have ended up with some of the special needs felines living with us, simply because they weren’t easy to place.

Now, this is not to say that we didn’t get attached to them. We did. But, the reality is, we have a whole raft of cats who need special care. For instance, one is highly allergic to everything. She manifests her allergies in an odd way, however. Most cats get a skin irritation or some such. But not this one. She ends up with chronic sinusitis and sneezes constantly.

Two others are insulin dependent diabetics. And, regular old humulin, which is what they used to take, has been discontinued. Sooooo, instead of 30 bucks a month for two vials of insulin, we now spend about 200 bucks per month for the vet insulin. This does NOT include the cost of syringes.

There are others, but Jasper (aka MeatLump) is the subject of this blog. You see, MeatLump has bowel issues. As in chronic constipation. Lovely, I know. Ever tried giving a cat an enema? Not a pleasant task, believe me. Anyhow, because of this, MeatLump got himself a case of the ‘roids. Now, I can sympathize. Having been there I know it ain’t fun. But, you can’t really get one of those donuts for cats to sit on.

Well, MeatLump got out of the house. Escaped. Went over the wall. Beat feet. Zipped out. Generally, got away from his horrible captors. Us. At any rate, it has been hot in STL, and he went and hid. The ‘roids got worse. A gland ruptured. It remained hot. He remained hidden. Flies did their thing. Soooo, when we finally caught up with him it was not good.

He spent a bit of time at the vet, and is doing well now. He will heal up just fine. However, because of the rupture, the ensuing larvae, etc, much shaving occured. While I sympathize with the little bastard, I can’t help but laugh. I think the picture below will show why (Trust me, not gross. Just funny.)

So, there you have MeatLump. Roid kitty sans fur.

More to come…

Murv