Procrastination Made Perfect

So . . . Tuesday my goal was to get the first 5,000 words of THE GRANDMA GENE into the computer. So I got up, did all my morning stuff, and was at my desk by 11:00 a.m. Opened my writing program and stared at the little note cards on the screen. My job was to fill them in with scenes, lots of scenes.

I looked down and noticed that my keyboard had a hair on it. Oh, no. Had to stop and remove the hair. Had to then turn the keyboard upside down and shake to dislodge any miscellaneous pieces of personal DNA that might be hiding there. Then had to get the antiseptic wipes and clean the entire shelf on which the keyboard sits--can't have a dirty shelf, can we? Oh! And that's dust on the printer and the phone. Excuse me while I dust said printer and phone and Kindle and work area . . .

Back to the desk. Emails arrive, several of them. Yea. I answer them immediately.

Oh! The UPS man. I run out to the porch and retrieve the package, then come in and open it. A book. One I've looked forward to reading--THE HUNGER GAMES. Am tempted to start the first chapter, but no, I must write today. Set the book aside.

Oh, my, I think it's lunch time. Lunch break.

Back from lunch. Sit down, open shelf, hands on keyboard. But look, more emails have arrived. I answer them immediately.

Hands on keyboard when I hear the rumble of the mail truck. Mail call, and there's bound to be a lot of mail because yesterday was a holiday. Go out and grab the mail, then come in and sort it. Toss, toss, file, toss, toss--oh! Two books: Randy Alcorn's IF GOD IS GOOD (autographed, no less!) and Dean Koontz's A BIG LITTLE LIFE. I skim through Randy's book and find myself tearing up at the truths written there. Have to stop and send him a thank-you email.

With an effort, set books aside. Hands on keyboard, but look! Dog wants to go out. Okay.

Get up and take dogs out. While they are doing their thing, I take a few moments to water the plants, scoop poop, consider rearranging the porch furniture. No, too hot. Maybe later.

Back inside. At desk. In chair. Hands on keyboard. Who are these people and whatever made me think I could write a novel about them?

Phone rings. Hubby calling. Chat about nothing important.

Emails come in. Answer them immediately. One is from a friend who wants to know when's a good time to call. NOW, I respond.

He calls. We talk. I hang up.

Hands on keyboard. Eyes straight ahead. Oh my, I'm thirsty. Need Diet Coke. Up to kitchen, empty glass in hand. On way back to desk when I remember laundry in dryer. Oh my, can't let those clothes wrinkle. Stop and fold laundry--some of it, anyway.

Back to desk. Hands on keyboard. Wait--still thirsty, because cup, Diet Coke, and ice are in laundry room. Off to fetch them.

Back at desk. Emails come in! Yea! Write chatty notes to friends. Stop and stare at people walking by on sidewalk. Who are they? What are they doing in the neighborhood? What are their dreams?

Scold self--should confine imaginings to characters in work-supposedly-in-progress. Hands on keyboard. Type.

Stop typing and laugh. Think this would make a good blog post. Consider writing it out now, but sternly remind self that 5,000 words must come first. Hands on keyboard. Wonder about Jon and Kate. Sigh for those eight children.

Type.

~~Angie