This is Chester. He’s waiting for me.
Or he is on guard mode. He does this sometimes when he hears the click of the back gate latch.
He has better hearing than me.
I’m not sure what he’s going to do if the visitor is 6 foot 10 and carrying an Uzi but it’s good to know we’re both going down fighting.
But, nothing.
It’s the wind again.
I guess if a cat could sigh, he would.
And winge about the vagaries of weather interrupting his afternoon nap.
That gives me an idea…
It was as if Microsoft Word was sent down from that place in the universe where a group of torturers sit around a table to find new ways of making our lives just that little bit more difficult.
I mean, most of the time it works really well and behaves itself.
But…
Then there are the times, usually when you are stressed about a deadline, or you are nearly at the end of what you believe to be the most brilliant writing you have ever put on paper.
Then…
Disaster strikes.
It could be the power goes off, even for just a few seconds, but it’s enough to kill the computer. It could be that you have reached the end and closed Word down, thinking that it had autosaved, all the while ignoring that little pop up that says, ‘do you want to save your work’?
It’s been a long day, night, or session. You’re tired and your mind is elsewhere, as it always is at the end.
You always assume that autosave is on. It was the last time, it has been since the day you installed it however long ago that was.
So…
When the power comes back on, you start the computer, go into Word, and it brings back all the windows you had open when the power failed, and the one with the brilliant piece you just wrote, it’s just a blank sheet.
Or up to where it last autosaved, which is nowhere near the end.
Or it didn’t save at all.
You forget the software updated recently and that always brings changes. Usually unwanted changes.
By which time you have that sinking feeling that all is lost, deadline missed, brilliant work lost, it’s the end of the world.
You promise yourself you’re going to get Scrivener, or something else, where this doesn’t happen.
Or if you’re like me, you put the cat on the keyboard and tell him to sort the mess out.
This is Chester. He’s about as bored a cat can get.
Why?
I’m reading a section of one of my stories that I know is terrible, and I’m using him as a measure of how boring.
I think both you and I would agree.
This story needs re-writing.
In fact, just as I reached the end, I saw some movement.
Is it a mouse, or is it relief?
Reading time over, it’s time for some classical music.
At least I know he likes that!
This is Chester, he thinks he is invisible.
No one has told him he’s not a zebra, and that he doesn’t have stripes the same color as the blinds.
I’ve told him over and over, just because he cannot see me, it doesn’t mean I can’t see him.
But, once again, we have to play the ‘game’.
I should be writing, but once again Chester has successfully distracted me.
If it was a cunning plan on his part, it worked.
This is Chester, he’s lurking in the shadows.
This is near the front door, so I wonder if he’s waiting for someone, or keeping guard, or he’s spotted something outside.
The grandchildren will be here soon, and I haven’t told him they are paying a surprise visit. He has a habit of disappearing the days they usually come.
We both hear a noise outside.
He goes into stealth mode.
Then I recognize the sound, of letters being shoved into the mailbox.
He shakes his head. I think he was expecting a mouse.
I hear the back door rattle and the loud sounds of the grandchildren arriving.
He lifts his head, stands, and bolts.
That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move for a long time.
Am I seriously reading my work to a cat, as an aid to correcting errors and grammar
This is Chester, he helps with the proofreading.
It’s not his favorite job, and truth be told he’d rather be outside being chased by a dog. But that’s why he’s not allowed outside.
He mistakenly wanders into my writing room ready to take up a spot on the seat near the window.
I watch him, and he’s pretending not to care if I’m watching him. A wide yawn, and a dour look in my direction. Yes, I can hear him now, “do your worst.”
For a moment while I read, trying to add the right amount of inflection and accent into the voices of the various characters, I realize that some of the conversational pieces seem a little awkward.
I think, judging from the expression on Chester’s face he agrees
Stilted, forced, or ‘mate, you’ve got a bloody awful accent, that sounded nothing like an Italian using English as a second language’.
OK, so I can’t write accents very well. Note to self, find an Italian and spend some time talking to them.
So, the conversation needs a little rework, let’s move on.
The next part is a little descriptive, just to set the scene.
‘Flowery’ is the word Chester uses. Flowery? It isn’t describing a garden. Oh, overly descriptive with too many comparisons.
What’s wrong with the sky is as blue as the ocean?
Have you seen the ocean?
Yes.
I doubt it. The ocean is green.
How do you know, you’ve never seen an ocean? This cat is starting to annoy me.
A gentle shrug, he gets up off the floor and heads towards the door. A condescending look over his shoulder and he’s gone.
What’s the definition of madness? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
It’s official. I’m mad!
Character development
This is Chester, he thinks he is an expert on people
He has meandered in checking out what I’m doing, or maybe he’s here because the room is cooler.
He gives me the ‘What are you doing’ look.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’m a writer, it’s like talking to a brick wall.
I say I’m working on developing a new character.
Name?
I’m thinking of John.
A shake of the head and the eyes roll. Can you be a little more inventive, like, well, Chester?
Predictable. How about Xavier?
Would you call your kid Xavier? He’s going to have a very rough time of it at school. Unless this character has a tortured soul.
Good point. How about William?
Bill, that’s what you get in the mail. Another shake of the head. You’re not very good at this, are you?
Apparently not. Haven’t you got some mice to catch?
He yawns, then curls up on the seat. Wake me when you’ve got some better ideas.
Maybe not. I’ve come up with a name, Daniel, and I don’t care what he thinks.
For now.
There are good days and bad days
This is Chester, a cat looking for trouble
Bad days, today, trying to make the bed and the cat decides to get under the sheet and chase imaginary mice.
Peel the sheet back, toss the cat off the bed, go to remake it, and, you guessed it.
OK, we’ll come back to that.
Good days, sometimes occurring, but not often, he’s off the bed and on the prowl, though what he’s looking for is a mystery.
Perhaps there’s a gecko somewhere.
Good news, he’s out of my hair and not sitting on the keyboard trying to make a statement.
Working on the new chapter, I hear the patter of cat paws on the steps down into my office.
I turn to give him the ‘go away’ icy stare.
He returns it, in equal measure, tentatively puts his paw on the ground, ready to run if need be.
I shrug.
He goes over to the rug and flops down.
Under the fan.
Yep, they are lazy days of summer for some of us.
This is Chester, the literary critic
It’s important to get that first sentence right
So, I’m rattling off a few lines to get his reaction
‘It was a day like no other’
‘Yes, I know’, says the all knowledgeable Chester looking down his nose at me, ‘it’s been used before’.
We are sitting in the writing room and as usual, Chester is trying to ignore me.
I’m trying to start a new novel, looking for that first line that’s going to hook the reader.
I read him a few lines.
He gives me a disdainful look, ‘Heard it all before old boy, try again’.
Once Upon a time?
‘You’ve been watching too much TV’.
It was a dark and stormy night.
He yawns widely, ‘As if you haven’t used that before’.
He’s right, damn him.
Why am I talking to this cat anyway?
He jumps up onto the desk and sits on the keyboard.
Ok, writing is over for the day.
I had so many things planned, those little bits and pieces that seem to get away from you.
It’s now Wednesday night and I have only just come back to this post to write some more or maybe finish it, but that should you some idea of how easy the simple things can get away from me.
To fill in the gaps in the story, I started to make a list of those bits and pieces, and that was the first mistake.
I frightened myself.
Tuesday disappeared in writing down what was on my writing slate. For instance,
Episode 10 of the helicopter story
Episode 3 of the treasure hunt
Episode 5 of the Castello di Brolio story
Episode 1 of the WW2 story – this has a start but is it Episode 1. What bothers me is that I wrote some of this on the plane, but it disappeared somewhere, so I’m not sure when this may get done.
Episode 6 of Writing instead of insomnia
Episodes 36 through 40 of Being Inspired, Maybe. This is a series of photographs, and the story inspired by them
Episode 46 through 50 of PI Walthenson’s first case rewrite, still without a title. But, before Episode 46 there needs to be an introduction because for a few episodes we are off on a slight tangent that will feed into the story later on.
So, in addition, it will need an Intro Episode and a rerun of Episodes 1 and 2 which set up the next part of the story.
And, don’t get me started on where I am with Strangers We’ve Become, because the rewrite seems to have stalled at page 360ish. The book is done but rereading told me, or the cat did far more emphatically, there a few gaps. This needs to get done, and I need to stick the courage to the sticking point.
Wednesday arrived and I was looking at the list wondering what I was going to do next and realized that I’d been putting off writing the next few posts on the traveling blog which desperately need to be done.
So…
Traveling blog times two, and now it’s Thursday.
Damn, where did the week go?
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 