Writer's insomnia -- Here we go again
3:10 a.m. Friday morning: Boom -- I'm awake. Wide awake. The beginning of the next scene is coming to me. Actually it's already here, fully formed. I can see it like a movie in my head. It's on repeat mode, but I know it won't be running for long. It'll fade, then it'll be gone. It's good stuff, so I've got to write it down. Dang it. Not because I've got a fully formed scene (that's great), but because it's 3:10 in the freakin' a.m. and I know I'm not going back to sleep after I write that scene down. Dang it.
I turn on my bedside table lamp and get out the notepad and pen. Derek rolls over, away from the light. He knows the drill: light goes on, he rolls over. Sorry, honey. Note to self: Find flashlight before tonight. I'm scribbling as fast as I can before the scene goes away. It sucks when that happens. I'm stuck wide awake and I've got nothing to show for it.
I feel a cold, wet nose and find myself looking straight into a pair of big brown eyes. As soon as the light came on, Andy the Greyhound stood up. And for any of you with male greyhounds, you know what that means. I think they have gravity-activated bladders. They stand up, they have to pee. Now. If you hear a whimper to go with the standing up, you'd better get moving. Now. You don't want to have happen what happens next if you don't move fast enough. It's the middle of the night, and I don't wanna go outside, but try telling that to a dancing greyhound who's convinced he's on the verge of a potty emergency.
Within a minute, I'm standing at the backdoor scribbling this, and Andy is happily soaking every tree and bush in sight. Good boy. I know I am so not getting back to sleep. Crap. Well, at least it's Friday. Maybe I can catch a few extra winks tomorrow.
I call Andy, no response. It's a fenced yard, so he's not going far. But I really don't want to set foot outside. Last time I went out into the yard looking for him, I stepped on a toad. A really big, fat, squishy toad -- and I was bare-footed. That was an ick and a half. Talk about not going back to sleep. Jeez, Andy's probably eating a toad as some sort of narly pre-breakfast appetizer.
3:37 a.m.: Andy's back inside and I'm back in bed. Yep, I'm definitely awake. I feel another wet nose on my arm. Gracie the Greyhound. Gracie doesn't have big brown eyes, this girl has orbs. They're enormous -- and utterly irrestible. One greyhound, one mission -- to get in bed with me and Derek. Resistance is futile. I scoot over. After all, that's why we got the king-sized bed.
3:50 a.m.: I'm officially the middle of a greyhound/husband sandwich. I can't move. Happy hound, sleeping husband, awake writer. More book ideas coming fast, and I'm groping for my notepad and pen on my bedside table. Since I can't move the rest of me, thank God I've got long arms -- and can write in the dark and actually read it in the morning. Yep, it's a gift.
4:00 a.m.: Wide awake writer. Sleep's way overrated, but I'm gonna give it a shot. My alarm goes off in an hour and a half. Wish me luck. Good night.
Lisa
I turn on my bedside table lamp and get out the notepad and pen. Derek rolls over, away from the light. He knows the drill: light goes on, he rolls over. Sorry, honey. Note to self: Find flashlight before tonight. I'm scribbling as fast as I can before the scene goes away. It sucks when that happens. I'm stuck wide awake and I've got nothing to show for it.
I feel a cold, wet nose and find myself looking straight into a pair of big brown eyes. As soon as the light came on, Andy the Greyhound stood up. And for any of you with male greyhounds, you know what that means. I think they have gravity-activated bladders. They stand up, they have to pee. Now. If you hear a whimper to go with the standing up, you'd better get moving. Now. You don't want to have happen what happens next if you don't move fast enough. It's the middle of the night, and I don't wanna go outside, but try telling that to a dancing greyhound who's convinced he's on the verge of a potty emergency.
Within a minute, I'm standing at the backdoor scribbling this, and Andy is happily soaking every tree and bush in sight. Good boy. I know I am so not getting back to sleep. Crap. Well, at least it's Friday. Maybe I can catch a few extra winks tomorrow.
I call Andy, no response. It's a fenced yard, so he's not going far. But I really don't want to set foot outside. Last time I went out into the yard looking for him, I stepped on a toad. A really big, fat, squishy toad -- and I was bare-footed. That was an ick and a half. Talk about not going back to sleep. Jeez, Andy's probably eating a toad as some sort of narly pre-breakfast appetizer.
3:37 a.m.: Andy's back inside and I'm back in bed. Yep, I'm definitely awake. I feel another wet nose on my arm. Gracie the Greyhound. Gracie doesn't have big brown eyes, this girl has orbs. They're enormous -- and utterly irrestible. One greyhound, one mission -- to get in bed with me and Derek. Resistance is futile. I scoot over. After all, that's why we got the king-sized bed.
3:50 a.m.: I'm officially the middle of a greyhound/husband sandwich. I can't move. Happy hound, sleeping husband, awake writer. More book ideas coming fast, and I'm groping for my notepad and pen on my bedside table. Since I can't move the rest of me, thank God I've got long arms -- and can write in the dark and actually read it in the morning. Yep, it's a gift.
4:00 a.m.: Wide awake writer. Sleep's way overrated, but I'm gonna give it a shot. My alarm goes off in an hour and a half. Wish me luck. Good night.
Lisa
posted by Lisa Shearin at
7:37 AM
4 Comments:
Ha, that sounds like a night at my house! I have two male greyhounds, and I swear if I so much as reach over for my glasses on the bedside table, they're up and crying. Well, Walker is. We call Joe the old man, the stoic. : )
Oops, forgot to add...I'm Stacey Klemstein. Linnea Sinclair's my mentor and my friend. Knowing me and the dogs, she directed me to this blog entry!
I hear that you're going to be at RT in Pittsburgh. It's a total blast! I love going. : ) Looking forward to meeting you in person.
Hi Stacy!
All of my male greys have been "momma's boys" too. Big, sweet, rambunctous babies.
Linnea adopted me, too. ; ) Being a newbie, I don't know what I would have done without her advice, expertise and support. She's simply wonderful. I've never been to the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention, and was thrilled when Linnea asked me to be on her SciFi/Fantasy panel. I understand we'll be co-panelists. ; )
I'm looking forward to meeting you too -- and Linnea. She's my mentor via email for now, I've never met her in person. Can't wait!
Everyone, meet Stacey Klemstein. Check out her website at www.staceyklemstein.com
I just went there and read the first three chapters of The Silver Spoon, the first in her romantic sci-fi series. It is WONDERFUL! I'm putting together a Barnes & Noble order this afternoon, and Stacey's book is going to be on it.
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