Diary of Mad Housekeeper

I'm hosting a bead party tonight for my friend Melody.  Melody makes beautiful jewelry and tonight she'll lead a group of us in making our own necklaces.

This is a busy week for me and I decided early on that I wasn't going to try and kill myself and make the house spotless. Almost everyone attending has been in my house before, so I decided I would just relax and enjoy the event. Here then, is a brief glimpse into the mind of Dena "relaxing."

PLACE: Dena's Home

SCENE: Dena working at her computer early yesterday morning. Let's slip in closer and hear her thoughts....

DENA: "This is so nice not having to worry about cleaning the house for the party. I'm so happy I've outgrown the need to try and impress people. Instead, I can just spend the day getting some work done."

TEN MINUTES LATER...

(Roar of the vacuum cleaner fills the air). "I'll just vacuum the upstairs. It needs it anyway so it's not like I'm doing it for the party."

TEN MINUTES AFTER THAT...

"A quick swiffering will take care of most of this dust. If I cared, I would Pledge, but I'm not going to worry about it...."

ONE MINUTE LATER....

"I'll only Pledge just this one end table because the dust really does collect on it and it stays off so much better if I Pledge.  And it's silly to have the Pledge out and just do one table.  I'll  just do the main tables and call it quits."

TWO HOURS LATER...

"Okay, the kitchen and bathrooms are clean, the rugs are in the washer and I've de-linted the cats. I'll replace the toilet paper rolls first thing tomorrow so they're nice and full for the party and put out clean towels. If we eat on paper towels standing over the sink tonight, I think we can keep the house clean until tomorrow."

So welcome everyone.  Make yourself at home. And don't worry, I didn't go to any bother...

Rabid Squirrels Are Back!

The damn squirrels are at it again.  I'm sitting in my office and on the roof above me is the constant scratching and scraping of dirty squirrel talons digging into my shingles. At least that's what I imagine them to be doing.  All I know is I'm hearing loud scrabbling noises and it's about to drive me to distraction. Any neighbor who dares peek in my window will probably call the cops to come arrest the crazed lunatic who's pounding a plastic broom handle against her ceiling whilst muttering squirrel curses.

Oh hell, they're inside the walls. Literally as I'm typing this the vent cover in the wall next to me starts rattling and it sounds like dust is falling behind it as something moves around.  Any minute now I expect a red-eyed squirrel demon to throw open the vent and declare war, probably beating me to death with the plastic broom handle.

And where are my cats, my protectors? Downstairs sleeping on the sofa. Someone needs to start earning their keep around here.

If later on today you see a blog entry reading something along the lines of  "Hlp. Atcked by sqrls. Bldeeng to deth," you'll know to send help, right? 

Lunch Tomorrow with Elizabeth Berg

I am so excited about my day tomorrow I can hardly sit still. Elizabeth Berg is one of my all-time favorite authors and my friend Pam invited me to a luncheon with her tomorrow afternoon at the High Point Literary League where Ms. Berg will be speaking.

Ms. Berg's writing is one of the reasons I wanted to become a writer. Her book Joy School was my inspiration for trying my hand at writing my first novel. I dissected Joy School, trying in my ever analytical way to find out what made it work. I have pages and pages of notes about the characters, their dialogue, and I even outlined the chapters, noting how many lines of dialogue there are, when each character is introduced, when the different plots wrap up, etc.

I plan to take my pile of notes and ask Berg to sign them tomorrow. (Possibly also slipping her a note that I'm just a fan, not a stalker).  

On a different note, I have GOT to learn to start turning on my cell phone. Yesterday was to be my speed-dating book signing event. I spent the day writing in my p.j's. and showered about 4 PM. Got all "cuted up" for the event and only then did it occur to me I hadn't turned my cell phone on in days.  Turns out I had a message from Sunday night that the event had been cancelled--not enough men signed up (cowards).  I also had 3 other messages waiting for me. Luckily, none of them were urgent.  I am just not a cell phone carrying kind of gal. I'd rather hide.

All was not lost. Since I had gone to the extra effort of applying makeup, I drove to Winston and met Blair for dinner. (I am not one to let an application of eye liner and lip gloss go to waste). And there's another speed-dating event on April 23rd that I'll attend and hopefully that one will have enough people to be a go.

Lots of writing work to do today. Must get to it. 

Individual as Creator

"In the West we view the individual as the creator. Works of art represent the mind of the artist, who takes credit or blame for them. Artists are put on a pedestal. It is little wonder that most of us don't see ourselves as gifted in this way and avoid expressing anything.  However, Eastern notions of art characterize this relationship between the artists and the work quite differently. The artist is considered the servant of the muses, not their master. The artist shows up , practices carefully the strokes or steps, and then humbly takes his place as channel, as shepherd for the images to be brought forth. Ideas, songs, poems, paintings come through the individual but are not though to be of him. On Bali, everyone is considered an artist. Art is simply what one does, not who one is."

     -  From Improv Wisdom by Patricia Ryan Madson

Found this passage last night in a book I'm reading and liked it enough to copy it here today. In working on my novel, I too often let fear get in the way of my writing anything. Fear what I write won't be good, or not good enough, or just not right for publication. The passage above soothes me. I like the image of my not creating the words, but rather just being a channel for them to flow through. This is a common theme in many books on creativity and writing. That the words are already out there--we don't have to struggle to create them. We just need to stand aside and allow them to flow down through us.  So writing becomes less a forced activity and more a meditative practice of "getting out of the way."

I've seen it work but it's still hard to do.  If I ever sit down to (ahem!) WRITE, I get very little work done.  It's too imposing, this job of creating. But if I tell myself, "Okay, just fiddle around with a scene and maybe you'll get a line or two of description from it," the words flow much freerer. Why? Because I'm "not really writing."  I'm just goofing around.  Or in other words, I'm not standing in my own way and the words come quickly. My goofing around time yields far more productive writing than any formal writing session ever will.

I use this process with magazine articles as well.  "You don't have to write the article," I tell myself.  "Just outline some paragraphs or phrases and I won't make you do the real work until much later."  So I get out of my way and find the article almost written by the time I leave the page.

The problem for me is that panic sets in. "I have a deadline--quit goofing around and write for God's sake!"  Ha--might as well stick me with a novicane dart. This writing is a funny business. You have to sneak up on it, and do the actual work when your real self isn't looking. And if your real self peeks in, you have to quickly look away, and pretend to be studying the birds or the sky--anything except writing. Because if your true self sees you writing, ego jumps in and says, "It better be good!"  And then there are no more words.