It’s 9:33 a.m. now, according to my computer, which is still
(in that metaphysical way that sometimes things are two places at once) in
Maryland. I, on the other hand, am somewhere over the Midwest. Ish. Thinking
back, I think this may be the first time I have flown on my own since I was
about eleven and the flight attendants had to sort of babysit me. It’s kind of
weird only managing my own stuff through security and not having someone to
leave my suitcase with while I go for a snack.
It’s been a semi-uneventful morning. Which is to say that I
did, in fact, walk into the men’s bathroom. But only once. But there was no one
there, so I wasn’t horrifically embarrassed. And the urinals quickly apprised
me of my mistake. (Although, I admit, my first thought was, “Why are there
urinals in the women’s restroom? That’s a pretty shoddy update of an old
building layout, if I do say so myself.”) Also, my daughter did throw up the
bacon I so thoughtfully offered her for breakfast. But she waited until I was
long gone and my hubby and the kids were almost home from dropping me off at
the airport. So I didn’t have to deal with it.*
I finished reskimming Robin McKinley’s Beauty, a feat I have resisted for years as I worked on my own
version of the tale. I am both dismayed and relieved: dismayed to find a number
of things that feel eerily similar, relieved to find that my story explores
some completely different avenues that I think will be intriguing and
satisfying to many a fan of both McKinley’s version and the “original.”**
I have only thought of three things so far that I should
have done while I was on the ground with internet access. Fortunately two will
wait and the third does not require the internet. It’s the third item, however,
that has driven me to my current level of procrastination and also given me flashbacks
of all those college papers I spewed out at the last second possible.
Somehow I managed to miss the fact that I was supposed to
bring a 3–5-page*** synopsis of my novel to one of my master classes tomorrow.
Oops. So now I get to write it while I’m in the air over amber waves of grain
or whatever else is down there. I actually wish I did have the internet for
this. Then I could obsessively look up what I need to write in a synopsis. Or
at least find out if it should be double or single spaced (hello, college
flashback!). Funny how I took a conference class on this last fall and thought,
“Cakewalk.” And now here I am thinking, “Only if the cakes are made out of chum
and the players are sharks.” I wonder what kind of music would be playing for
that cakewalk? I bet my husband can think of something appropriate.
It is now 9:52, metaphysically speaking. It is also, sort
of, 8:52 and 7:52. Whatever the time, I’m headed back to the grind.
Whew. It is now 11 a.m. (unless you are a cat in a box). I
have just completed a first draft of the synopsis. It is four pages, and it is
dry. Brittle dry. Desert dry. Tumbleweeds-have-just-rolled-across-it dry. Is it
supposed to be this dry? I don’t know. I am looking forward to asking the
Googoracle later. Also, I am nearly certain now that it should be double
spaced. That means I’m looking at cutting out half of what I have just written.
Sigh. It’s 11:03, and I’m off to work again.
11:22. Only now much closer to 9:22. And not much closer to
the correct number of pages. Chopping is hard. I’m down by half a page now
(single spaced). Two-ish more to go. And it’s time to turn off the compy.
Good-bye, compy!
7:16 p.m./9:16 p.m. My brain is mush. As evidenced by the
fact that at first I subtracted two hours from my computer’s time (9:16) and
ended up with 6:16.
* The hubby should
probably be nominated as some sort of saint for all the barf he’s cleaned up
since we got married--not just because he cleaned it up, but because he’s so often cleaned it up so I didn’t have to. That's some serious love.
** I say “original”
loosely since that’s not really a cut-and-dry topic.
*** Oh how I long for
my Chicago manual right now! What would Chicago say about such a cumbersome
hyphenated word? It’s an adjective, it has an en dash already in it, but then
it needs a hyphen because it’s an adjective! Do I hyphenate? Use another en
dash? Heck, why not proceed to a full-on em dash? Actually, I feel fairly
confident that the correct option in this case is to reword. But I liked the
conundrum so much that I’m keeping it. Even though the current hyphenation is
most definitely incorrect.
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