Who needs the Magic Kingdom? I'm in that better place where a book starts working.
The characters are impatient when I break to eat and sleep, distracting me through either process with their ideas as to how things should proceed.
They frequently disagree, leaving the generally vociferous me working largely within my head.
My family has been through this before. My husband expects that my conversation snippets will include questions about people who only exist on my computer. He didn't even blink last night when I temporarily abandoned the computer for the living room couch to figure our how a character could sit in a ladylike fashion while exposing her bare feet and massaging her calves. I got up and down a dozen times trying various positions before he even looked up from CSI.
When I told him the character was a dancer he suggested she extend her legs out parallel to the floor. She/I tried it, liked it and went back to work.
My daughter just pulls the blankets up over her head when she hears my music starting in the pre-dawn hours.
This summer, my cousin Bernie, his wife Karen and son Eddie sketched out a design of me at work for a sculptor who works in scrap metal and gave the final product to me for my birthday. I love it.
In the piece, my dog sits expectantly at my feet while a cat looks down from top of the computer monitor.
In reality, Smokie keeps her own counsel and will settle near my feet around 10 a.m. as would be her usual practice. But the cats are on to the new vibe.
The three of them seem to be competing for top position in the book's dedication. (Note to cats: love ya, but not THAT much).
Sadie likes top of the desk. Bess is a lap girl. Little Bit has taken to watching the cursor move along the screen with his back legs on my chair back and front paws on my shoulder. Everybody's an editor.
Bit somehow interprets putting him down on the floor as meaning you need for him to come back immediately.
Should I move so close to the keyboard so as to eliminate Bess's lap space she will stand on her hind legs on the floor, pawing at my lap and meowing at an annoying interval not unlike the chirp of a smoke alarm with a fading battery.
I've already moved the monitor screen to the very front edge of the desk so as to prevent any of them from perching directly in front of it.
They all need something else to do. They are indoor, neutered, declawed and clearly quite bored. Little Bit is of the generation which knows only the computer mouse.
Maybe I need to get them a pet.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs