There is a conspiracy out there, I tell ya. A cabal of ruthless, black-minded villains put in overtime this week to keep me from writing. They’re cagey, these evil-doers. At every turn, they construct a barrier, obstacle, or canyon, so deep and wide that I have no choice, but to retreat and do their bidding.
I know it is a conspiracy because only an organized effort could appear so innocent. The forces behind this dark movement keep themselves hidden in the shadows, making it seem like everything that’s happening is a big coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidence, chance, or dumb luck. Let me list off a few of their dark deeds and you be the judge…
I finish a rewrite of a new novel and before I can dive in again for another editing pass, I find myself two days deep into installing new hardwood floors in the loft, hall and master bedroom. I don’t know how I got there, the worn, threadbare carpet was fine. I’ve watched ALL THE DIY shows on television and know that this project should take a day, max – because that’s all it takes the guys on television.
The loft subfloor isn’t level…go figure. I thought I naturally leaned to the west all along. I took this leaning as an indication of my western adventure spirit and all along it was an uneven floor. This Winchester Mystery House floor kept pulling the bubble in my level like a maniacal black hole. The more I screwed, glued and patched, the less level the floor became.
The unseen forces clubbed my thumb with a hammer with the force that would make a baby seal wince. Blood does clean off wood floors with greater ease than the carpet.
A nail appeared and punched through my shoe into my big toe.
A wood floor means wood splinters – in all my fingers, my typing fingers.
In the movement of all the office furniture, pulled a muscle I didn’t know I even had.
My wireless keyboard is lost in a box of office supplies.
Then, for the salt in the wound, the Elves of Evil schedule a holiday, Thanksgiving right in the middle of the project.
Black Friday shopping provided a day off from the Floor of Frustration, but also prevented any writing of words.
I had to print a new sales agreement for Little River with a local bookstore, because the one I had ready to go is missing, probably with the keyboard.
So, coincidence? I think not.
I snuck away from the Evil Empire long enough to send this message to the outside world and I have to get back before they know I’m gone. The floor is calling…
These guys are clever, I’ll give them that much. They make it look like life gets in the way of writing. Little do they know, all it did was make me want to write even more. I’ll show them.
Oops, they’re coming…gotta go.