My blog is late, since I slept in. I slept in, since I stayed up reading. I stayed up reading, because… I think it has to do with having finished a big project.
Some books just take the starch out of me, especially ones based on biographical events. I finished the long-awaited “Cancelled Czech Files.” Recalling and rewriting and editing and re-editing years of my earlier life is tiring work, people. Not just the work itself, but also the delving into my mind, the incessant searching for old sensory data, or feeling homesick for old joys, reliving old pains.
Missing people long dead and buried.
And that includes my first dog.
But that’s over for now, and you can read the book in December. Today I need to relax and refresh and reboot. I need to stop thinking for a while, and reading somebody else’s work into three in the morning seemed like a good idea… at the time.
The house was quiet then. The dog twitched in her sleep by my feet. The refrigerator compressor grumbled from the kitchen every so often. My younger daughter smothered a giggle and kicked against the metal frame of her bed just above my head – reading again, no doubt. She’s her mother’s daughter, and it’s still summer, so why not?
Today, I might be just too bleary-eyed to get any writing done, but that, too, is a part of rebooting my mind. The weather forecast promises perfect mushroom-hunting weather: not too cold and not hot at all, not humid. It rained yesterday. I might find chanterelles and chicken-of-the-woods, and if I do, I’ll trade them for a gift certificate at one of our favorite restaurants.
I’ll go to the gym and work those parts the scramble over logs and up the hills left untouched.
Yet in the calm of swimming laps, the voices in my head will start clamoring for attention again.
“You could write about me, you know. You’ve wanted to for years. You have the first two chapters just sitting there.”
“No, no! You really want to continue the biographicals. What, are you nuts?”
“We’re still marooned on an island,” Sean reminds me. “Yeah, remember? You blew your deadline, and Asbjorn keeps bitching about having to use fish fat for lube.”
“Yeah,” Asbjorn chimes in. “You promised a trilogy, and we need to get back to Boston somehow.” Then he grins. “Just give us another week. There’s no Internet, no phone, we eat the fish we catch… “ He doesn’t seem all that upset, and suddenly, I envy him just a little bit.
“Oh, okay,” I groan, but my grimace turns into a smile I’ve been holding back. “I’ll get you back to civilization somehow.”
And I will, because I love Asbjorn and Sean so, so much. After what I put them through in “Breakfall” and “Swordfall,” they do deserve a proper vacation.
I hope another week won’t kill them.