TODAY’S BREW: 47 gallons of Chocolate Cappuccino laced with NyQuil.
BOOOOOO, CHRISTMAS IS OVER.
I love Christmas, and am never happy to see it go. Ask my husband who will beg me to take the tree down, only to receive visions of me clinging to it, wailing. But I have to admit, today seems a little back-to-normalish in a really good way already.
Sam, my three year old, who we also call “Frats” due to his Belushi hours and the inevitability of him wearing a beer hat long before he ever should, FELL ASLEEP BEFORE 9 LAST NIGHT.
This is a godforsaken miracle. I have been up with Frats until well after midnight, sometimes until 3 in the morning EVERY NIGHT for over a month. It happened around the time we introduced the Big Boy Bed. This made bedtime, normally a lovely routine for six year old Bennett and I, become a RAGING HELLFIRE DESTRUCTO DEMON PARTY THAT THREATENS TO CONSUME THE NORMALCY WE ALL KNOW AND LOVE.
So, if Mama is staying up until the wee hours of the fucking morning, that means I’m not waking up until way too late. Which means my day is starting without me, complete with kid breakfasts, dishes, laundry, Things To Do, kids to enrich, not to mention holiday here and theres to handle. So, yeah. NO WRITING A SEQUEL FOR YOU, JULIE.
I’m so close to the end of the sequel to RUNNING HOME, it burns little cigarette holes in my psyche. I long for my 5Am Writer’s Club and starting the day before anyone else knows it showed up. Last night, I hit the wall and lost my shit over the impending idea of spending another night up with Sammy and losing another complete day of writing.
Then, he fell asleep.
So, as fast as I could, I got my ass in bed, set my alarm to the tinkling sound of little chimes for 5 this morning, and I buckled down, showered and caffeinated, to work on RUNNING AWAY. Though I may be ever so slightly behind the schedule of my own making, I am back and invigorated to get this first draft done, and see the return of normalcy in my not so normal life. I’m dying to get this book into the hands of readers, and I want the first draft finished and tucked away by the time I leave for ConFusion in Michigan on January 17th. So, that is fucking happening, and two weeks too late, I may add.
You may recall that I have a ball busting writing regimen, and wonder how I’m handling that it did not go according to plan FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY WRITING HISTORY. Well, I’m actually perfectly cool with it. Sequels are hard, yo. I’m okay with the plan falling to the wayside so that this book gets the attention it deserves. I want to do it right the first time. I don’t want to rip up half a crappy manuscript. So to have my routine screwed with is pretty okay. I’m a writer, rules aren’t really my deal, even if they’re my own.
Rules are, however, Sam’s deal. And that little walking Frat party will have his ass in bed before the sun goes down if that’s what it takes for me to finish this book by January 17th.