I finished writing Tomato Stakes in June. Whew! What a load off my shoulders! There is such a sense of accomplishment when you are able to weave together over twenty chapters of nonsense and ramblings to make a finished product. I put together the cover in early July and when I uploaded it, I nearly fainted. It looked just as I had planned it to be. I have zip for artistic skills and computer skills that can rival that of your great grandfather’s. Somehow though, I was able to make this magical literary existence called Tomato Stakes! This … is truly a self-inspiring feat.
It is so self-inspiring that I have been a complete slack ass at getting my next book Mosquito Fog rolling. I’ve jotted down an outline. I’ve started writing it. I’ve opened up that brand spanking new folder on my desktop labeled ‘Mosquito Fog’ three dozen times. Then, I find myself doing something else.
I think I’ll bake a cake tonight. *Bakes cake, doesn’t write.*
I think I’ll finish reading this book. *Reads book for a few minutes and then gets on Facebook. Doesn’t write.*
Geez, look at these damn eyebrows! I have to go get these sons-a-bitches waxed right now! *Grabs keys and runs out the door. Doesn’t write.*
It’s true… yesterday I told the beau that I had to get back on that writing train. Instead I chose to have hair ripped off of my face. I picked a procedure that brings tears to my adult, tough bitch eyes every time over something that brings me happiness. What kind of masochist am I? Hot wax, tweezers, crying!?!? Stand back, Christian Grey, I got this shit on my own.
As Stacy performed the magic of shaping my brows, she asked, “How’s the book coming?” Stacy has become my eyebrow savior in the last few months. My regular hairdresser fell and broke her arm. I was left wandering the streets, sobbing and trying to figure out who I trust enough to touch my face. I’m a weirdo and I don’t want some stranger having the power to make me look like I’m constantly surprised for the next three weeks. Who can I trust… who can I trust…
My ex’s sister!
Didn’t see that one coming, hmm?
I figured that if in the four years I dated her brother, if I never heard an eyebrow horror story, I should be alright. And thank goodness, every time I’ve seen her I’ve left with a well groomed set of eyebrows, and not some etching of what use to be my brows spelling ‘You Bitch’.
I have gone off track here, sorry!
I’m sure the receptionist at her salon thought I was really enthusiastic when she said, ‘It will be about twenty five minutes if you want to wait for Stacy.” Damn right, I’ll wait twenty five minutes! Tell her to take her time! I’m best friends with Mr. Procrastination! Stacy asked how the book was going and this was the point that I had to admit that I was being a complete slacker.
I have my list of reasons:
1. I am super anxious about the release of Tomato Stakes. The anticipation is making me a psychopath. The beau said this morning that I seemed a little crazy. I am crazy, but just not a little!
2. Work has been super busy the last few weeks. Overtime and skipped lunches make me a bit of a brain dead ditz by the time I get home. I pull together the few brain cells I have hopping around to make dinner and pleasant mealtime conversation that consists more than, “Huh. Uh-huh. Yeah.”
3. Finishing Tomato Stakes almost felt like a breakup. It’s that boyfriend that went to find a bigger and better life. I wave goodbye and it doesn’t even look back at me.
4. It is hard as shit to move on to the next installment of a series if you don’t know how well this one will be accepted. I don’t remember this sort of anxiety with Letters To Young Chong. Two books in and now suddenly I feel the worries of failure. What if everyone hates it? What if readers don’t think it is as funny as LTYC? What if MADD runs a campaign against my book?
See, I am REALLY crazy.
* Just now, I was completely excited about taking the trash to the dumpster.*
I know what I need to do. Breathe. Get back to my yoga (which I have skipped out on for over a week. I mean really, what right does that Wii board have telling me I’m fat … it stands eight inches tall and is 20 inches wide.) Get back on my schedule, because I’m a Virgo and schedule is everything.