Thursday, June 16, 2011

Drywall and Dedication

I thought I was pretty good at working through distractions. After all, in high school I had the bedroom at the junction of all the A/C ducts, so that when I worked on my Tolkien rip-off and homework in the evenings I'd be hearing my brother's Jethro Tull, my sister's Barry Manilow, and my mom's Tsaichovsky's Greatest Hits all funneled into my room at the same time. My focus is sufficiently intense that I can't work retail. The only time I tried it, somebody walked off with three large, prominent watch displays while I was sorting a display.

Maybe it's learning to drive, which forces one to diffuse the attention more; maybe I'd do better if I were trying to write. But focusing on marketing research while the drywall guys are running power tools and the cat is trying to hide in my lap - that's way hard! I keep noticing other things and trying to follow them down side roads, like:

What are those Spanish songs one of the workmen keeps singing? He's in a really good mood, as he also sang the "Hallelujah Chorus."

Does Thai think she's protecting me from workmen, or vice versa?

Should I use a pseudonym for the lesbian western, given how different it is from previous works? Note how the mind skips right over little details like how I haven't even done the first round of "final revisions" yet.

Whoa - where'd they go? When I sat down to start this post, pandemonium; suddenly, silence, and all the tools are gone, too. But the job's not finished. If they only work two hours in the morning during the hot months, this is going to take along time. They are unlikely to have fallen prey to any supernatural entities (though I admit the cats might be fed up enough to resort to summoning them), as those wouldn't be interested in the power tools. Unless they were abducted specifically to work on one of those overnight palace constructions that genies and fairies specialize in? That would involve taking the tools.

So, yes, that's probably it. I need to sweep up their mess (which the genie also didn't need; I hope it doesn't occur to him to teleport the construction mess from the palace back here) before it gets too hot to wield a broom, and then - concentrate! Because it doesn't do any good to write the story if I don't keep it in the mail.


  1. I used to be able to read and do school work with rock and roll blaring. Not any more. I need silence. Music, particularly if there are words, is so very distracting.

  2. I still don't need silence; and when I'm working on a story you could still drive a tank down the street and I'd barely notice; but there is a particular quality to construction noise, and almost anything will distract me from market research because I'd rather be doing almost anything else. I think blocking out distractions is a young person's talent, though.