Wednesday, 12 May 2010

Faff and Nonsense

Shrew is five weeks old now which means we're still at the 'ohmygodtheonlythingkeepingyoubreathingistheEyeOfMordorlikegazeIkeepyouunder' stage of new parenthood*. He also has a cold at the moment which makes it even more important I use the POWER OF MY MIND to keep him going. I gather that this is all perfectly normal.

However, I find writing works best when I hit that zenlike state of suddenly-it's-three-o'clock-in-the-morning-and-there-are-a-few-thousand-words-on-the-page-where-on-earth-did-they-come-from? stage. They might be rubbish words filled with stupid errors but they are there and it's much easier to mess about with stuff that's there than to get it there in the first place, for me anyway.

Clearly, these two states are incompatible.

This is currently how a late night writing session works.

Scenario A)
Child is asleep. Decide I might try and write a bit
Faff about making a drink and/or food.
Check on The Shrew.
Start writing.
Realise The Shrew is making weird sounds.
Try and ignore weird sounds.
Realise I can't.
Check on The Shrew -

Q1. Is The Shrew awake? Y/N

Y - He will see you and want to be picked up. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.

N:

Q2. Is he moving/making visible signs of being alive? Y/N

Y - Sneak back to computer.

N - Poke The Shrew. Shrew wakes up and wants to be picked up. Wish you hadn't poked him as that was a really stupid thing to do. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.

Scenario B)

Child is asleep. Decide I might try and write a bit
Faff about making a drink and/or food.
Check on The Shrew.
Start writing.
Realise The Shrew is not making weird sounds.
Try and ignore the lack of weird sounds.
Realise I can't.
Check on The Shrew -

Q1. Is The Shrew awake? Y/N

Y - He will see you and want to be picked up. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.

N:

Q2. Is he moving/making visible signs of being alive? Y/N

Y - Sneak back to computer.

N - Poke The Shrew. Shrew wakes up and wants to be picked up. Wish you hadn't poked him as that was a really stupid thing to do. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.


At the moment he is happily asleep in my arms but will scream if I put him to bed as he has a cold. This means I can only type one handed so can't write on FT, I cannot move from the position I am in, my arm aches and my back will kill tomorrow.

But.

*put soft focus lens in now*

When I look at him I am almost unbearably happy.

And achy.









*I cannot spell the word parent without spellcheck to show me how it should be done. I blame the French.

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