Lane Robins (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lanerobins) wrote,@ 2009-04-10 19:43:00 |
|
writer clutter. It's a disease.
Revising. And I've given up on the actual desk and started working on the dining room table as per usual. It's bigger, don't you know. Sadly, not enough.
I'm beginning to wish wistfully for telekinetic powers that would allow me to just float things around my head, easy to reach when I wanted them, and out of the way when I didn't. Though, with my life, even if that miraculous day occurred, I'm pretty sure it would be followed by the cats rising up to chase all the floating paper, and dive-bombing my head.
Some of the things I can justify being on the table/desk. The manuscript. The red pens. The black pens. The post-it notes. The copy of the previous book in the series.
Some of the things on the table that there is no justification for: The 10 oz can of coffee that I have yet to put away. It's somehow comforting to see it.
The OTHER manuscript that I am currently not revising, because who has the time? Except every now and then I just have to jot a note. Or two. Or a page and half, but who's keeping track?
Three cookbooks. I think they're there because I am getting tired of easy-eat food. I look up lovely recipes, sigh happily, and then go nuke a lean cuisine.
A spatula. I don't know why. It's a clean spatula, though, so that's something, right?
A copy of Dr Horrible. For moral support.
And of course, a cat or four. Usually sprawled ON THE MANUSCRIPT, or fighting to lie on the ms.
On the far end of the table, out of reach, is the pile o' books I'd rather be reading. Corambis, In the Dark, The Unnatural Inquirer, the Skull Mantra, and Tales of Mystery & the Macabre. Sooner or later, I'll make my way to them!
Revising. And I've given up on the actual desk and started working on the dining room table as per usual. It's bigger, don't you know. Sadly, not enough.
I'm beginning to wish wistfully for telekinetic powers that would allow me to just float things around my head, easy to reach when I wanted them, and out of the way when I didn't. Though, with my life, even if that miraculous day occurred, I'm pretty sure it would be followed by the cats rising up to chase all the floating paper, and dive-bombing my head.
Some of the things I can justify being on the table/desk. The manuscript. The red pens. The black pens. The post-it notes. The copy of the previous book in the series.
Some of the things on the table that there is no justification for: The 10 oz can of coffee that I have yet to put away. It's somehow comforting to see it.
The OTHER manuscript that I am currently not revising, because who has the time? Except every now and then I just have to jot a note. Or two. Or a page and half, but who's keeping track?
Three cookbooks. I think they're there because I am getting tired of easy-eat food. I look up lovely recipes, sigh happily, and then go nuke a lean cuisine.
A spatula. I don't know why. It's a clean spatula, though, so that's something, right?
A copy of Dr Horrible. For moral support.
And of course, a cat or four. Usually sprawled ON THE MANUSCRIPT, or fighting to lie on the ms.
On the far end of the table, out of reach, is the pile o' books I'd rather be reading. Corambis, In the Dark, The Unnatural Inquirer, the Skull Mantra, and Tales of Mystery & the Macabre. Sooner or later, I'll make my way to them!
