I’m afraid I can put it off no longer.
It’s time to start typing.
Typing is really fun, actually. I’m going to confess some uber-dorky behavior and admit that I sometimes have little movies of words typing around in my head, or I move my fingers on an imaginary keyboard (I do this with both kinds of keyboards – musical and computer). I’ve discovered some cool things this way (did you know that the words “sleigh” and “eighty” are…I don’t have a word for it. But if you use correct form while typing, and type those out, they make a sort of pattern with the keys and the fingers you use to type them. I’ve already wasted too much time on this. If you don’t get it, sorry).
If I were just going to type up what I’ve written for The Black City, word for word, it would be easy. I might even enjoy finding out what my final word count is, and how far off the mark my estimate.
But I’m going to revise as I go, which promises a painful century of staring at tiny little words on a glaring background, pain in my neck and shoulders, and frantic emails fired around the planet to my favorite critique partners. Then I’ll sit in front of my email inbox, waiting for their responses. And I won’t get anything done.
And I don’t have time to get nothing done.
Wow, is this my paper diary? Because it’s sure starting to sound like it. Sorry to ruin any imaginings you may have about my top secret paper diary. It’s basically this: obsessing about writing. Or the ten pounds I want to lose. When I was young and melodramatic (as opposed to what I am now, which is old and melodramatic), I thought my diaries would be published like Sylvia Plath’s. I think I even embellished things a little on purpose, and sometimes edited other things out, because Someday A Bunch Of People Might Read This.
They won’t. They’re probably not even reading this because it is too long and too rambly, and now that I know I don’t have an audience because I’ve driven the three of you away, I shall make an announcement:
At this moment, I really should be working on The Black City manuscript instead of writing about it and all other things unrelated.
And on that note, I won’t be updating my website next week. I’m taking it off so that I can work on the manuscript as much as possible. Oh yeah, and hang out with my family occasionally, for the Thanksgiving holiday. On Friday we’ll have a guest post by author Lillian Brummet. Other than that, I’ll see you next Monday, the 29th. Happy Thanksgiving!
Love to you all (and I think it’s just you left, Mom). Have a great weekend!
Beth Hull 
I’m still reading this!! And re: those words, I would say something like your hands mirror each other… with a slight delayed reaction.
Like my brain.
As soon as I saw this comment come up, I thought, whoa, somebody actually read all that? You must lurve me!
Re: your brain, don’t go insulting the intelligence of the one person who has read this so far.
Oh, I love typing! I may not dream about it, but I love the clickity-clack sound. Although when I get going, deep in thought (and its usually ramblings that get cut out) I have finger dislexia. I end up typing the right word, but with the fingers on the wrong hand.
P.S. I miss listening to your rants and raves in person, so reading them gives me something to look forward to.
I like the clickity-clack sound, too! Finger dyslexia I haven’t experienced (yet), although I get interesting results when I’m not paying attention & my fingers are all in the wrong place on the keyboard. I think I’m typing an undiscovered language when that happens. The language of “Oops-oo.”
Thanks for reading. I love your comments.
Greg hates my clickety sounds and says I’m the loudest typer he’s ever known. He claims I even woke him up once when I was sleeping in the living room and woke up first and went online. He poked his head out of the bedroom and glared blearily at me.
My typing usually sounds like cli…cki….ty…cl..a…ck. Anyway, I do love you, and will see you soon, so you can write!