Since I haven't been devoting myself to the current novel, I feel I've let the side down. Not just my readers, who could be anxious to see whether or not the writing life is all it's cracked up to be, but my characters. Stuck. That's what they are. In limbo. Hanging, like a proofreader's "widow".
Because I am somewhat weird, perhaps, I picture them doing things behind my back, like teenagers left alone at home. I imagine they have been going places, talking about interesting stuff, having the occasional party, and I wasn't invited. I could check in, of course. In one second I would see that they've been absolutely nowhere, but are still just about to sit down to a scrummy vegetarian Christmas dinner, all of them frozen in time. But I don't check. I rather prefer the idea that they are out there doing their thing, laughing, weeping, and loving.
My own days are taken up with final arrangements for my cats' transport. No one likes to send cats on international journeys. If I had my way, they'd sit next to me on the plane, but that's impossible. I try not to think about it too much, as I look into their little faces. Cats are tough. They will be cranky with the whole business, but they'll get over it. The experience is going to be more emotionally draining for me, when the time comes.
My friend in Oz asked me today if I was sure about this move. Well, first, it's a bit late to change my mind. All the arrangements, except for booking my flight, are in place. But, second, I know it's time to leave again. Because of the way my offspring are scattered around the globe, it's difficult to settle for too long in any one place. I divide my time almost equally between Canada and Australia, and visit England regularly. All three countries are important to me. I am an odd arrangement of English, Australian and Canadian. During sports finals, particularly the Olympics, I am totally torn about which teams to root for, and end up being complacent about it. NOT the hockey, of course. There's only one team to cheer on there. (I just hope I'll be able to get the NHL in Australia. There must be a way. Surely ESPN is available worldwide.)
Only about 15 weeks to go now. I don't know whether I'll get my characters in Summer Must End away from the Christmas dining table during that time. This avoidance is not Writer's Block, but Writer's Distraction. I've so many other things to deal with for now, and can't bring myself back to the novel. It's not going anywhere. A little more stress in the coming months could well produce even better writing. Well, that's what I tell myself.
So forgive the scarcity of my blogs, please. This, too, shall change, once I'm back to normal. Whatever that is.
Oh, do you like the new template? It's full of sky and brightness. I think it's a happy design.
