Okay! I’m in a bad mood. And I realize that it’s because I don’t have any writing time.
This house is kicking our butts. We start in the morning and go until it’s dark. It’s not a fixer-upper. Not exactly. It’s just that the former owner had slightly different tastes than we do. And that’s putting it mildly! They seem to have had a thing for green. Green is everywhere. Don’t get me wrong. Florida is a very green place. I love green. When I go outside. There’s lots of it here. But I don’t want to see it all over my walls!
And it’s not just green. It’s an ugly green. Dark and scary. All the walls are painted awful colors. Where there isn’t green there is dark brown. And our dining room was done in a horrible shade of yellow. And not with a brush. They used a sponge, I think, and I’m sure they thought they were being very artistic. Please. If you want to be artistic and you aren’t an artist then doodle on a piece of paper. Don’t practice on your walls!
Two rooms had carpeting. I ripped them out and put in laminated wood flooring. I decided to do it myself with help from my Brother-in Law. It looks great but now I’m in bad need of a chiropractor.
I’m hanging in there, though. It’s a terrific house with a great floor plan. It has a gorgeous back yard with a salt water swimming pool. It’s in a very nice neighborhood. So I keep telling myself that all the work is going to be worth it.
But, it wasn’t until last week’s blog that I realized how this house has impacted my writing. Impacted isn’t really the correct word. It has stopped it. I sat down to write last week’s blog at midnight on Wednesday and had no clue as to what I was going to start typing. I came up with a lame idea. I was tired and it showed. You can’t force writing. Your writing loses something and people can see it right away. Hell, even the cartoon sucked. As I’m writing this I’m bowing my head in shame. Really!
My second novel has come to a screeching halt, too. Not only do I not have time for writing, I don’t have time to even think about writing. And that’s a big part of my process. The piece I’m doing is usually with me all day. I’ll be planning a scene or thinking up dialogue and I have a lot of it written in my head before I sit down. But it’s been all about the house. I sat down a couple of nights ago and…nothing. So, I stepped away. Best to wait ‘til it comes, I thought, than write a piece of garbage.
And it will come. Yes, the house will be finished and I will finally not have paint somewhere on my body. I will stand up straight without having pain rolling up and down my spine. I’ll be happily banging away at the keyboard in a room that isn’t a scary dark green. Yes, it will come. It just won’t be tomorrow, or the day after. Probably not the day after that, either, or…Damn! I’m in a bad mood again.