9, count them, 9 days of freedom coming up


I managed to score the entire Thanksgiving week off from the DayJob, hooray!

The company kindly gives us the Friday after Thanksgiving as a matter of course (since, face it, who would be productive at all on a day between a family feast and a weekend? They’d just be going through the motions); and I had two and one-half paid vacation days left; and my boss okayed taking them that week; and he approved half a day off with no pay to round it out, and — Voila!

My plan: with apologies to my friends and family, I shall ignore the celebrations, stay at home, and act like a full-time writer. My family and friends have been informed of this — it’s not the first time it’s happened.

In previous years I’ve gone away during Thanksgiving, but this year vet bills and car repairs put me enough in the red to make staying home the smart move. Plus: if at 2AM I feel like, say, playing the guitar, not a problem. In a hotel room, on the other hand, not an option.

In other news: Other people at the DayJob have discovered how nice it is in the training room during lunch break. My last hideout for writing over lunch is gone… Stuck at my desk where there is a HUGE WINDOW ON A BUSY CORRIDOR TWO INCHES AWAY FROM MY ELBOW.

Try writing a sex scene under those circumstances. Just try it. Probably get sent to Human Resources for a Talking To.

2 Responses to “9, count them, 9 days of freedom coming up”

  • Brian Says:

    “Try writing a sex scene under those circumstances. Just try it.”

    As I recall, your sex scenes are along the lines of:

    “That night, she knocked on his door and slipped inside.”

    Followed by a line with three asterisks on it. The next line reads something like:

    “On the deck, the next morning, …”

    It seems to me that even the tender sensibilities of the good folk at the Day Job should not be too scandalized by writing like this.

    • Rosemary Says:

      Brian —

      One writes what the story requires.

      What you describe is what the Steerswoman’s story requires.

      Surely, I say, surely you do not think I’m a one-story author?