Some writers can work with distractions, some need absolute silence. I fall somewhere in between. I don’t need silence, but I can’t keep working with constant distractions either. This has put me a bit behind on work the last two weeks.
After a week of having company for the holidays, two kids and a husband on vacation, I thought I was finally getting my house myself by the end of the week and could get caught up.
However, over the weekend ice and wind tore the gutters from our house, so the husband extended his vacation through today so he could get quotes on repairs and deal with the insurance agent. I’m very happy about this because I don’t want to deal with these things. However, I confess, I am starting to go a little crazy.
You see, Mr. Mancini is the love of my life, the thriller of my loins, the man of my dreams. He is nearly perfect in my eyes. Except for this really annoying habit he has of only wanting to talk to me when I’m working. (Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but it frequently feels that way.)
Watching television; nothing. Eating; minimal conversation. Driving; he prefers to look at the scenery.
But once my fingers start dancing across the keyboard and I’m deep in a heated scene, he wants to discuss random things. Yesterday it was politics.
“What did they do about the Fiscal Cliff?” he asked me as I fulfilled one of my character’s fantasies.
I really had to struggle to tear my gaze away from my laptop. “Huh?”
“The Fiscal Cliff? What happened?”
“They finally came to an agreement.”
“Oh. What was it?”
Lost in a sexy lust-filled haze, I shook my head. “I don’t know. Look it up. I’m working.”
That lasted for about thirty seconds. As soon as he found the answer to his question, he started reading the article to me as if, at that very moment, I cared about U.S. economic woes. Being the good wife that I am, I let him ramble while only half listening. Until he decided we needed to have an in-depth conversation on the topic. After half-listening to him rant about Congress for several minutes, I finally had all I could take.
Flushed and breathless, I looked at him and said, “Kate and Kyle (we talk about my characters as if they are real) are fucking in her client’s kitchen. Do you really think I give a shit about the Fiscal Cliff right now?”
Well, that did it. Fiscal Cliff forgotten, he set his laptop aside, slid next to me and grinned in that special way. “Really? What are they doing?”
Maybe I’ll finish that scene tomorrow.