The deadline for the book is a few weeks away. (Longer than that really, but I need to subtract the time that I’m on tour, since the schedule moves so fast that it’s almost impossible to get anything done except for the events.) To compensate for missing that time, I’m busting it pretty hard right now. This is how the living room looks.
What’s missing from that picture (aside from the gansey, which is just out of camera range and totally ready for me to design the top part) is me lying on the floor marking up pages, swearing, weeping loudly and ignoring the needs of an entire trashed house and three teenagers while hopped up on so much coffee that I can feel my hair grow.
I work on the living room floor until I am ready to print up the next part or someone asks me a stupid question. Currently on the list of stupid questions are the following:
1. How’s it going?
(Seriously. Look at me. Look at the mess. How does it look like it’s going? Do you usually ask crying, sleep deprived people who have been wearing the same tee shirt for 4 days how it’s going? No, no you don’t. You just walk around them really quietly and make soft noises and make MORE COFFEE. )
2. Do you know what Amanda/Meg/Sam did?
(Unless they burned a page of manuscript or wrote a page of manuscript I don’t care. Go sort your sister issues out and don’t speak to mummy unless the police are here or you need pizza money.)
3. Do you want to come to bed?
(Would I be making more coffee if I wanted to come to bed?)
4. Do you think you’re going to finish?/ How much did you get done today/ When will you finish? / Are you getting it done?/ Do you think this is a healthy approach?
(That’s it. Pressure the crazy lady.)
5. Are you thinking about making dinner?
(I find that staring the questioner down while creating an awkward silence works well here.)
Then I leave. I go to the back room. I enter into the 78th debate with the stinking cat about who’s office chair that is….
and then I keep going.
It’s going to feel really good to finish. I think I need more knitting time.