This one has been making the rounds on Facebook lately and I had to share. (And say I wholeheartedly agree!)
Cecelia Tan, author, editor and founder of Circlet Press, did an interview recently where she talked about working on multiple projects at once.
I told a friend that I was writing two romance novels simultaneously, as well as an erotic serial, and a couple of short stories, all at once (not to mention my baseball blog, tea blog, et cetera...) and she told me her head would explode if she tried to do that. I pointed out, reasonably, that she did quite well in college while taking four classes per semester, and for me that’s a lot of what it is like.
Some days I work more on one project, some on another. The real secret is that whenever I get blocked on one project, I can “procrastinate” writing it by writing one of the others!
I have been thinking about Cecilia’s comments this week as I’ve started opening up files and plotting my writing schedule for the coming months. Like Cecilia, I am usually working on a number of projects at once, all in varying degrees of completion. Of course, this was pre-baby. It’s been awhile since I had my usual schedule, with six or seven Word files opened (at least), flitting from one thing to the next and checking them off my to do list as I send them out into the world. The farther along I got in my pregnancy, the fewer files I seemed to be juggling until I didn’t even have Microsoft Word open for nearly a month. (The first thing I wrote postpartum was Patrick’s one month letter.) It’s only been in the past couple of weeks that I’ve even felt like I could work on more than one thing at a time.
At the moment, I have five files open: two completed stories that have been rejected and need editing and tweaking before I send them out again; a new story I started writing two weeks ago; the beginning/back story to that novel idea I was excited about last week; and a growing list of possible anthology themes to pitch to my publisher. That’s not so much for me, really. A year ago I probably had twice that number of projects going on at once. It’s a fluid process, though. Short stories can often be written in a day or two and then I’ll have fewer projects going. Which is usually followed by a frenzy of activity where I finish one project and start two new ones. Before baby, I might write two or three stories a week and not even break a sweat. (Which is nothing compared to some of my peers who seem to knock out two or three stories a day!) Noveling takes a lot longer, of course, but I keep going back to the longer form because I love it and that’s where I’d ultimately like to stay for awhile. Same with editing anthologies. Fairy Tale Lust was so much fun, I’m really looking forward to doing it again. And-- someday-- I want to get back to writing screenplays.
I really liked Cecilia’s comparison between working on multiple writing projects and taking four classes a semester in college. It is very much like that, especially with longer projects. Short stories are a bit like those weekly essays you have to write in College Composition (says the college instructor). I do well when I have a variety of things to work on and I get a bit panicky when I only have one or two projects (or none, these last few months). So it pleases me to see those open files and to know I have so much writing to do. (It panics me too, but right now it makes me happy.)
I feel a bit rusty at writing fiction, but I’m writing again as time permits. It feels good. Right. I’ve missed it.
Dear Patrick,
You are two months and one day old today, my little monkey! No, I’m not already falling behind on writing your monthly letter, I just wanted to wait until after your two month appointment with the pediatrician. You appointment was this morning and I don’t think either of us was happy to be there. But we both survived your vaccines and you only cried for a little while. Thankfully, you are napping peacefully now.
You’re now in the 90th percentile for weight, length and head circumference. As the doctor said—you couldn’t be more perfectly proportioned. As far as I’m concerned, you couldn’t be more perfect! Of course, I do wish you weighed just a little less. You’re at thirteen and a half pounds now, almost five pounds heavier than you were at birth! My poor back and shoulders protest when I have to haul you and your car seat in and out of your father’s truck. But you’re my big boy and I’m so grateful you’re healthy.
It’s hard to believe it’s been two months (and one day) since you were born. Those early weeks are a bit of a blur of exhaustion, frustration and—when I wasn’t tired or frustrated—moments of quiet joy. It was a roller coaster ride of getting to know you, learning how to take care of you and adjusting to the incredible changes you have brought to my life. After your father left, it was all I could do to take care of you and myself and the pets. I’m happy to say the second month has brought a little less exhaustion, a lot less frustration and more moments of joy.
I’m also getting more sleep at night than I was a month ago because you’re sleeping better. Right now, you sleep four to four and a half hours when I put you down for the night, followed by a two to three hour stretch after a bottle, followed by another hour to hour and a half before you’re up for the day. You nap pretty well during the day, but the naps are getting a little shorter as you are waking up to the world around you and don’t want to miss anything.
You’ve learned a few new things in the past month. First of all, you’re really smiling! It was hard to tell before if it was a smile, a grimace or gas, but now I’m sure of the real smiles. You don’t smile every time you see me, but when you do it melts my heart. I never get tired of those toothless, lopsided grins. So far, you’ve only giggled once while you were awake (and I have to say, giggling in your sleep is a little creepy) and it was while I was putting on your bib. You do enjoy eating! (You take after your mama, I think.) I’m looking forward to hearing your laughter on a regular basis.
You have become more “interactive” in the past few weeks, much to my delight. You coo and babble now, your little fist shoved into your mouth—sometimes both of them at once. Putting your hand in your mouth used to signal your hunger, now you do it just because you can—and it seems to make you so happy. You look at me more often and for longer stretches and, like your smiles, I look forward to the future when you seek me out to watch me instead of looking at me only because I’m right in front of you.
In the past month, I’ve gotten you a swing and an activity play mat, both of which entertain you. I didn’t think you would take to the swing, but after a bit you seemed to enjoy watching everything moving around you. Oh, and it has the added benefit of rocking you to sleep when you’re feeling fussy. You just got the play mat yesterday, but you immediately started wiggling and kicking to the sounds and lights and little dangling toys. You love riding in the truck and looking around (though the motion eventually lulls you to sleep) and I think you’re starting to make the connection between being put in your car seat and going for a ride in the truck.
I feel like you’re growing up too fast right before my eyes, baby. You don’t fit into any of your newborn outfits anymore and it makes me sad. In fact, you are wearing a few 3 to 6 month and 6 month outfits already, though they’re a little big. But despite your growth spurt, you’re still a little baby. You still put your fist in the air—power to the people!— accompanied by the super serious expression you get sometimes, your little mouth turned down at the corners in disapproval. You can’t hold your head up for more than a few seconds yet, but you’re getting better at it ever day (and get soooo frustrated when it wobbles in the opposite direction of where you want to look). You still love to stare at the ceiling fan (I think the fan is as exciting to you as your play mat, actually) and looking at the lamplight or sunlight through the window. I can’t wait for spring so I can take you outside!
As of yesterday, I can finally count on two hands the total number of hours I’ve been away from you—8! I think you’ll be getting a regular babysitter soon, at least part-time. I miss my writing schedule and it’s hard to haul you around on errands. I think I might like to go back to teaching in the fall and even if it’s only online I will still need blocks of time to work. Of course, I don’t know yet how I’m going to leave you with someone else on a regular basis. It’ll be good for both of us and it’ll be harder for me than for you, I’m sure. But I know you don’t really want to go to doctor’s appointments and the grocery store with me, right? (I’ll still take you to Starbucks, of course!)
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but sometime in the past month I fell in love with you, Patrick. It wasn’t love at first sight for me like it was for your father. Is that horrible to admit? By the time I fell in love with you as my baby bump, it was almost time for you to be out in the world. So it’s taken me a little while to get to know you on the outside of my body, but I’m in love with you now, little boy. How could I not be? You are so amazing. We talk to your father everyday on my laptop so he can see you and you can see and hear him—and you do respond to his voice, even if his image is a little blurry on the screen sometimes—and I tell him how you’re doing and how incredible you are. He misses you, but I’m excited for him because I know he’s going to fall in love with you all over again when he gets home.
Two months have flown by and I know that it’ll be December before I know it and you’ll be turning a year old. Don’t grow up too fast, sweet boy. As much as I’m looking forward to all the things you’ll be able to do in the next month, and in six months, and in a year… I want to enjoy what you can do right now and savor these moments with you. The cuddles and the coos and your little hand on mine are all I need right now.
Happy two month birthday, baby. Mama loves you.
Patrick is two months old today. Doesn’t he look happy?
The awesome play mat is the Baby Einstein Around the World Play Gym.
I’m delighted that Best of the Best Women’s Erotica 2 will be out next week! The fabulous and talented Violet Blue selected my story “Call Me” from a previous edition of Best Women’s Erotica for inclusion in this best of the best collection.
In the introduction, Violet has this to say about my story:
In Kristina Wright’s wonderful and hot “Call Me” an accident leads to a furtive fantasy come true when an obscene phone call goes delightfully awry.
“Call Me” was a fun story to write because it’s mostly dialogue and there is no physical contact between the characters. But it’s still sexy, with a dash of humor. Here’s the opening:
Claire dialed the number before she lost her nerve. The phone rang and she switched hands to wipe her damp palm across the sheet.
“Hello?” It sounded like he’d just woken up.
“Hi,” she said, trying for a sultry voice. “It’s me.”
“Bad connection,” he mumbled. Static crackled across the line.
She frowned. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. She tried again. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have?”
“Yes. And this is an obscene phone call.”
“Really?” he sounded more awake now, but not quite himself. “Sounds intriguing.”
“Mmm… I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“Well, sweetheart, where do we start?”
Something wasn’t right. The static on the line made it impossible to hear him clearly. “Sam, let me call you back. This is a lousy connection.”
“Who’s Sam?”
“Oh my God—” It wasn’t Sam. She had just propositioned a stranger.
“Hey, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “Don’t hang up.”
She hung up.
Claire stared at the phone, waiting for it to ring. She shook her head and picked up the receiver, carefully dialing the number Sam had given her. The phone rang twice.
“Change your mind?” There was humor in his voice. Humor and a warm familiarity that reminded her of late-night radio dee-jays.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I’m trying to call someone else.”
“So I gathered.”
“My boyfriend, actually.”
“Lucky guy.”“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling like an idiot. A horny idiot.
“I’m not.” He chuckled. “So tell me, do you make a lot of obscene phone calls?”
She laughed. “Not hardly. This is my first.”
“You mean we’re still on?”
What’s it all about?
Life. Love. Writing. Editing. Sex. Books. Romance. Movies. Friendship. Photography. Teaching. Coffee. (Lots of coffee.) Travel. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Memories. Experiences. Rants. Raves. Reviews. Chocolate. Mmm… chocolate. Musings of an insomniac writer. Want to know more?
