How This Mystery Writer's Creative Flow was Brutally Murdered
By the Husband, in the Kitchen, with Words...
I’ve been working from home since the 90s, long before it became commonplace. As a freelance writer, I’ve worked from a desk in my bedroom or living room, the dining room table, and eventually graduated to an extra bedroom after one of my kids grew up and moved out.
Setting boundaries and teaching my kids to respect my work time was a challenge, but it was far easier than conveying the same to my husband. I finally developed the strategy of saying, when he interrupted me, “If I were working in someone else’s office, would you call me to tell me this?” If the answer was no, I’d go back to work. If it was yes, I’d stop and listen.
Now that I’m writing fiction, it’s an even bigger challenge. The kids are all grown and gone — the youngest is 34. And my husband, after all this time, is usually pretty good about interrupting me when I’m in my office. But when he’s not, it can really throw me for a loop.
Like this morning. During my writing time, I went into the kitchen to get a drink, where he ambushed me and launched into a diatribe about the state of our imploding retirement nest egg.
How do you protect your creative brain against assaults, especially those perpetrated by those nearest and dearest to you? How can I write light, entertaining prose when my mind’s as dark as the interior of a cave on a moonless light?
I try very hard to protect my writing time, not to let anything disrupt the flow. I don’t open my email in the morning, look at social media, the news, etc. so that I can get some creative work done before the world crashes down on me. I don’t make morning appointments. I don’t take phone calls. . . You get the idea.
When I’m in that dark place, it’s not that tough to pound out the words of an article about the new features of the latest WordPress update, but writing or editing my fiction manuscript is a completely different thing when I’m upset/angry/afraid or feeling some other strong emotion.
Some writers seem to be able to compartmentalize better, finding solace in their writing even when the world around them is going crazy. I haven’t yet learned how to be one of them, although I’d like to.
What I’m Reading
Networking Nightmare by Craig W. Turner
Eli Ramsey is a self-deprecating PI with his own company in a suburb of Pittsburgh. He admits that he doesn’t know anything about business, despite having read dozens of books on the subject. He recognizes there’s a different between reading about it and implementing the things he’s read about, yet he still keeps reading new books and not making any changes.
He also really, really doesn’t like networking events, but as a member of the Chamber of Commerce, he feels like he ought to attend them.
One evening he’s approached at one of these networking events by a young man who’s obviously unpopular, who wants to consult him professionally. They set up an appointment, but before they meet, the prospective client cancels.
Then he’s found dead in his car. Was it suicide? Ira doesn’t think so.
And then he’s hired, by the head of the Chamber, to look into it. From that point, Ira has to untangle a messy web of lies, deceit, half-truths, obfuscations, and political jockeying.
I found it quite entertaining. It’s by an author I wasn’t familiar with, and I was given an ARC.
Notable Quotes
The brief niceties over, the Patrimonio brow furrowed, and his face took on the sincere, serious, deeply caring expression of a salesman about to pounce.
- The Marseille Caper by Peter Mayle
I’m sure you’ve all seen that look. Like when you pull into a car sales lot and step out of your vehicle. . . the deeply caring expression of a salesman for his wallet.
He wasn’t inaccurate in his claim that he knew every single word, or so it seemed from his performance so far. But the way he put them together… Lord above, it was as if each word existed in a completely separate universe from its neighbour, and they were individually plodding along one after the next after the next until one decided – randomly, and without warning or logic – to burst forth with emphasis, calling undue attention to itself for no reason whatsoever.
- A Village Theatre Murder by Katie Gayle
This cracked me up. It describes perfectly the glib incomprensibility of words that come out when the speaker has memorized them without having the foggiest notion what they mean.
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Wise Words
OK, wordsmiths, it’s that time again. Choose the more appropriate word to fill in the blank below — your choices are pall and pallor. (As always, choices are listed alphabetically, so don’t read anything into it. . .)
I refrained from mentioning the Godwins, since the attempted assassinations might cast a _____ on our festivities,
- The Painted Queen by Elizabeth Peters and Joan Hess
We’ll have the answer next week.