|the view from outside his front door|
corn fields and mountains
We left there and drove to Rhode Island, where we're staying with my mother's friend, Mary, until the 22, when we go up to my cousin's house to stay for 4 days, and then come back to the beach for three weeks.
|the first day we arrived, I planted my ass|
in the chair and refused to move -
paid for it with severe sunburn
can you see how white my feet are?
after that day they were so burned
I couldn't even wear flops
Why all this traveling? Because my mother didn't plan accordingly and now we're doing the "sleep-over shuffle". Don't get me wrong, it's great to be "home" (I grew up in Rhode Island) and I'm eating my way through food I haven't tasted in a couple of years, but I'm not sleeping right (from a lumpy double, to a soft twin, to a couch), not pooping right (sorry, that was probably TMI) and have to deal with my MOTHER. (Who, quite frankly, is a pain in the arse. She's a neat freak and has to "clean" and put away, and nag that I'm not the same way.)
And let's not forget about my Monster, whose only words besides "Good Morning" are "When can we go to the beach?"
|the beach -- that's Monster on the right with her boogie board|
I had a lot of stress last year. A LOT. Most of it personal, some of it nasty (Remember the bully at school?), and I thought coming to the beach would be good for me. I would relax and refresh and regenerate. I would also be able to finish the second novella I started (for the conclusion of my series THE RELUCTANT GROOMS).
I thought, (thought being the operative word here) that I would be able to "work" in the morning, and then Monster and I would traipse down to the beach in the afternoon. After supper I could edit or whatever, and maybe Tweet some more, and keep to a schedule so that I could at least finish the first draft to THE LADY'S SECRET.
|stone sculpture at the Pt. Judith Lighthouse Coast Guard Station|
How's that working for me, you may ask. Yeah, not so much. I haven't even LOOKED at the manuscript (though I have two laptops and copious notes with me). There's too much going on.
And it's not that it's TOO much, it is, believe it or not, the NOISE.
I'm a silent writer. I cannot have any background noise, music, tv, distractions. I get into my own head, into my character's heads and let the words pour out. Take for instance right now as I'm writing this -- my mother is slurping her oatmeal, Monster is watching some weird sci-fi thing on tv, and the stupid hot water heater is making this god-awful noise in the basement. It's driving me crazy (especially the slurping).
So what's a writer like me supposed to do? I have no idea. Even if I go upstairs to the bedroom, Monster will follow me "What are you doing? Can we go to the beach? When are you going to finish?" My mother will follow that up with "Are you taking a shower? Are you going to do laundry? Are you going to the supermarket?"
I am supposed to be on a "working vacation". So far it's work just being here.
Tell me -- Have you ever taken a "working vacation"? Did you get any work done? If so, please tell me HOW.
Anne Gallagher (c) 2014
PS If you'd like to see a couple more pics from our first day at the beach, you can click here