Busy Days (Maggie Shayne)

I like busy days best. Busy days keep me hopping from one project to the next with no time in between for that dreaded "thinking" stuff that tends to drag me down. Busy days tire me out so I sleep at least five hours once I fall into bed. Busy days give me something to do when I'm wide awake again by 3 a.m. or so, a reason to get up and get at it instead of lying there staring at the ceiling. And busy days end with me feeling good about the amount I managed to get done.

I've been having busy days like that all week long. And it's interesting to me that I get more done when I'm busy than I do when I'm not. That sounds ridiculous, so let me explain. If I'm not working on anything that's drastically urgent, I barely find time in the day to get my quota of pages written, much less squeeze in any of the ordinary mundane stuff that we all have to do. But when I'm facing a crushing deadline (as I am right now) I get into that do or die mode and stay there. And you can only write for so long, before your eyes start to cross, so you have to put other things in to break it up.

Last Thursday, after writing my poor, poor, pitiful me post Wednesday night (I thought about deleting it, but Tara says it's "real" and might help others going through their own heartbreak, so I left it, but I hate it. Consider it written by my alter-ego, Whiney McWhinesalot) I spent the entire day babysitting my grandson Sean. He's 16 months old. It was such a great day. I took the laptop with me, knowing this deadline loomed. But I'd much rather spend time with him than write. So it was there as a "just in case" thing. We had a blast. It was too rainy to play outdoors, so we played on his giant front porch, where he has a swing hanging from the rafters. I pushed him in the swing, and sang to him. He learned a ton of songs, and loved it. (I'm a sucker for an enthusiastic audience, as you may know from former karaoke tales.) Within a few notes he was belting out harmonies of his own, sort of. No real words, just sounds and notes. He's pretty good. When he got sick of being outside, we went in, turned on XM Satellite radio, a channel called LUCY, and proceeded to teach each other dance moves. He particularly likes the one where I pick him up and spin around in circles. We also played with his zoo animals, stuffed bunny collection, and various others of his toys. We didn't get through all three-hundred-eighty-two-thousand of them, but we have time. =)

Amazingly, as busy as Sean kept me, when he went down for a nap, and I fired up the laptop, I wrote twenty pages. That's more than I usually do in a full day of being home alone staring at the blank screen. Way more. Double. He napped two hours and twenty minutes, and I did two days' work. Babies rock!

So I was off and running toward that deadline. Friday I had to take my car in for an oil change, and I took the laptop with me. While I waited I dashed off three pages, but they were a little too fast to allow much more. After that I had to run to another town, pick up a prescription for my housemate-daughter Stacie (who was at her apartment awaiting the gas crew, while suffering with an impacted wisdom tooth that had caused an infection) and then take the pills to her in Binghamton. (This was about two hours worth of driving.) Then we headed to Wally-world for a few more items for her new apartment, and by the time I got back it was time to get ready for the Rehearsal dinner for a wedding I was performing that weekend for my best friend Michele's daughter, Erin.

Again, things that kept me busy. The dinner was amazing, the company divine, and a 26 year old hunk was asking my pal Michele about me. (Because I looked like a million bucks, naturally.) She smacked him down, telling him I was too old for him. Honestly, she is no help at all some times. We had a great time.

Saturday was the wedding, and I was too nervous to work, so I went over the ceremony sixteen times, went over my check list twenty four times, packed the car and re-checked it a dozen times, and got ready. Black halter dress this time, knee length, and cute as hell. It showed a little more cleavage than you normally see in clergy, but then, I'm not your ordinary cleric. The ceremony went off beautifully, though. The bride was so gorgeous it brought tears to my eyes to see her coming down the aisle. The groom had tears in his as he repeated his vows to her. It was incredibly touching, and I didn't mess up or set myself on fire or anything, always a plus.

Everyone loved the ceremony and it was memorable for the couple, who were delighted with it. The entire event was picture perfect, and the reception was great too. Although, I did get a little bit back into the self-pity party partway through the reception, watching all the happy couples together dancing, wishing for my own special someone. That was when I knew it was time to leave. No more of that nonsense. And I certainly didn't want my own plummeting mood to bring the party down. So smiling brightly, I said my so longs and headed home.

Sunday was a great writing day. 13 pages on the book. Lots more plotting. In between I did laundry, and picked up around the house. Monday was great as well. 11 more pages, and I plotted out the next several scenes. Tuesday sucked. I decided to catch up on everyday work first and write later. Big mistake. I took out the trash, showered and actually took my time about it, fetched groceries, went through files to find tax forms I needed to fax in for a student loan for one of the girls, faxed them, paid the bils, which took over an hour--I hadn't done it in awhile. Then my glorious wonderful son in law, Tony, showed up with the hardwood floor I had ordered, which he picked up and is installing for me. We had coffee and sandwiches and talked for a good while. Which is way more fun than working. After he left, I finished with the bills, and then took a brief break and thought writing would be an evening project. But the phone rang. Grandkids had a baseball game in an hour! Of course I'll be there, I promised. Again, way more important. So to the game I went, and had a great time, and didn't regret it at all. Stacie and I brought Ella (9) home with us and she stayed overnight. We had a great time.

Finally we're nearly up to speed. Wednesday. I wrote and wrote and wrote. 15 pages, all while Tony was in the next room tearing up the old carpeting, taking down some built-in shelves. Everytime I had to take a break, I did something else to kind of "cleanse my pallet." I wrote, I washed the dishes. I wrote, I pulled staples out of the living room floor. I wrote, I chatted with Tony. I wrote . . . and Tony said, holy crap there's hardwood up here!

The fifteen year old shaggy, sculpted brown carpeting went from the living room & dining room, up the stairs and through the upstairs hallway. I had asked Tony to go ahead and tear it all up. At his exclamation, I went to look, and lo and behold, there is hardwood flooring in the hallway. Narrow, old style boards, not tongue & groove, older, perfect finish, looks like maple. The hallway is L shaped, with the lower part of the L, a very small portion, 3' x 3' or less. That portion has no hardwood. It looks as if there's hardwood on my bedroom floor as well. Haven't determined yet if it covers the entire floor or not, but where we peeked under the carpet there was definitely that same, old fashioned maple. We'll investigate further today. I'm delighted! I love hardwood floors.

Last night, after the day's work was done, Stacie and I went out for dinner, decided to try a new little diner, which turned out to be the worst one in the universe, (her mushroom swiss burger came without cheese, and my medium rare one was barely warmed through, for example.) But we had fun all the same. Then we went to see HAIRSPRAY, which was an absolute delight! I'm so angry with Gene Shallott (or however you spell his name) for giving it two thumbs down. It was wonderful, full of messages about bigotry of all sorts, and fun and funny and the songs were spectacular. Yeah, it's probably a chick-flick, but it's a great one. Stacie and I give it four thumbs-up! So there, Gene.

So it's been a good week, a productive week. And I'll get to the end of the first draft today or tomorrow without fail, and proceed to the final, polishing draft, which never takes me more than a week. The book is due next Wednesday and I'm determined to get it in on time. And by the time it's finished, I'll have gorgeous new hardwood floors in my living room, restored ones in my upstairs hall, and be ready to shop for furniture to finish out the process.

Best of all, with all this busy work, I've only had time to cry two or three times this week, which is a new record low. (Stacie gets so mad at me when I sink into despair. She keeps saying, this isn't you, Mom. You would never bawl over some =guy=. Well, she's obviously wrong about that, but she does manage to pump me up most of the time, so it's a good sort of scolding.) I'm making progress. I'm getting past the hurt, and getting on with life. And really, despite the tough times, life is good. I mean, I've got so much great stuff going on. I look great, I feel great, I'm healthy for the most part, I'm making my house more beautiful all the time, I'm writing fantastic stories that I love, I'm doing fun things, dinners out, and ball games and time with the kids and grandkids, and great movies and all of that. So what if one part of my life is still making me sad? Even if it is a part that's so very important to me. I'm trying hard to focus on the many, many parts that make me happy, and just let the rest flow whatever way it's going to flow. Sooner or later I'll see where it's taking me.

So my tip for the week on getting over heartache, is to get as busy as you can doing stuff that makes you happy, and go for it as if your life depends on it, because in a way, it does. So far, it seems to be helping. And thank the universe I have another deadline looming right after this one for a novella due September 1, so it should keep me going through August. And maybe by then my broken heart will be, miraculously, whole again.

Hugs,
Maggie