Portrait of the author as:
A) A bloodthirsty Pre-Raphaelite zombie
B) The bastard love child of Leonard Cohen and Frances Farmer‘s mugshot
C) Marie Antoinette on her way to certain death in an IKEA toile-de-jouy tumbrel, with a little Anne Frank around the crossed eyes
D) Her deadline looms, much better in the mental hygiene department but not so much on keeping up with the whole personal maintenance thing, despite having showered only this morning
E) She will appear on her next book jacket
Answer: um….. all of the above? Or, in other words, what I look like on deadline, with a second draft of book four due June first. In bed.
Although my daughter said “you look like a pouting duck. What those of us in my generation would call ‘so totally Myspace.'”
To which I replied, “except that I am part duck… zombie duck.”
Oh, and also? I have to pick my mom up at JFK the night before, and clean my entire apartment. Between now and deadline. Yea.
But I leave you with this:
Any tips on what you do when you have a huge deadline looming? I need all the help I can get…
Oh, and here’s the mermaid version:
The pouting mermaid duck. Yea.
Love the photos, Ms. C! And the Elvis Costello. Write fast.
It's a very personal thing, but when I'm stressed, it really helps to plug in my iPod and turn Aerosmith to 11.
Good luck, Miss C, I know it'll be great…
Oh my, Miss C, while you do have my wholehearted sympathy, I must say I absolutely adore the zombie duck! Is it a real thing I can have and hold? I must reseach.
I'm not blog hijacking, but you and Joshilyn are apparently on the same mental illness number page, and if you have a moment to go to her Faster Than Kudzu, there is a 52 second video she's embedded that you might relate to.
It's gonna be fine, the book will be brilliant and we all are exceptionally excited! Pinky swear!
I believe in endorphins, liquor, supplicating prayer, and bad 80's pop.
Not in that order.
Sometimes all four at once.
GO! GO! GO!
First of all I drink up all the caffeine in the house and then I start:
• blaming myself for becoming a translator,
• blaming my husband for marrying a translator,
• blaming fate -it comes as no surprise when your birthplace is Colonus, yes Sophocles'sbirthplace- for taking up translation project…
and then I swear I will never ever take up any project exceeding half a page and I will set fire to my keyboard, computer, printer plus dictionaries… then bribe myself with the perfect vacation package as soon as I meet this"darn" deadline and… it works!
P.S. the mermaid version is superb!
I love you all. And I am coming to eat youir endorphins!!!
Oh my dearest C-Woman,
Woke early and read your blog in bed this morning. Was immediately thrown back to a bottomless sleep hole – a nightmarish reverie of stochastic resonance featuring your alternate deadline identities. I lay here now in bed wondering shall I pray for enlightenment, or just fucking get up and make coffee. God, we could put this to music. My cousin Charis will do it for Broadway Backwards next year.
And . . . um, do you have Fran Farmer-Cohen's address?
I say enlightenment AND coffee, dear Reine, as I feel back asleep and now am lying in bed and drinking coffee, dreading the manuscript…
I am a big believer in the plug in the iPod and shut the door process. As for cleaning your house – if you can afford it get Molly Maid to come in.
Good luck
I could get my mom to call you. She was saying "Just do it" long before Nike ever did. And Nike never quite managed the right inflection of exasperated affection.
Good luck!
I "lie" here? Oh god, I promised myself I'd never use lay or lie (unless it had to do with truth) in a sentence again. In my alternate dimension we are all pretending I was writing in the past tense. Well I was, wasn't I?
Camille Saint-Saens; Symphony #3 for Organ and Orchestra (chose the organ carefully). A quick review of a few of the Herreshof family hulls afloat and refloated in the pages of 'Wooden Boat' over the last year. A big chunk of dark chocolate. GET IT, GRRRRLLL! We're all waiting with cash at check-out!!
Just hold that vision of boxing gloves at the typewriter. Or do like we used to do during reading period. Dress up in city cammies. Each time you finish a part of your project come out of your room with an imaginary machine gun. Hold it in the air. Dance. Wipe out the lurking and skulking writing demons. Then run back in with a fresh iced coffee.
OH I am a sucker for Herreshoff! And machine guns! And iced coffee! And ALL OF YOU! SO MUCH!!!!
This may seem harsh, but the key to meeting deadlines (in my humble experience) is to admit I suck and just dive into the abyss. Or the briar path, whichever is handier.
This too may seem harsh, but I googled "pouting duck" and, well, voila: http://antiduckface.com/
May your photo never grace the pages of this link.
Now, ahem. Write, my dear.
Oops. Make that briar patch.
Though I find the idea of a briar path somewhat intriguing.
Damn, I miss Mr. Herreshoff.
He used to walk the briar path through our yard every morning.
Deadlines are scary! Bum on seat and head down, I guess 🙂
Pouting mermaid duck. Just blew my mind.