Screaming children. Whistles blowing. A steady stream of cards to scan and questions to answer. The phone is constantly ringing, and my scrutinizing boss could walk in at any moment. This is what my summer job, working front desk at the CC is like. I’ve worked here for three years, and the first year I worked here was really what sparked the idea for my book. Granted, the book isn’t about a pool, it was just something about the people here, along with some other things happening in my life at the time that caused the characters to stroll into my head while I tried to sleep at night.
Some days, when the weather is bad, hardly anyone comes and I sit here for my shift at the desk trying to pass the time. I used to read books on my Kindle and basically use up all of the money I was making on books to read. I loved doing that, it was like I was getting paid to read. (Well, when you subtract the money actually spent on the books, but okay, it wasn’t THAT much…)
I’m kind of in a book rut right now and I can’t seem to find anything, so if you have any suggestions, I’d love that!
Anyway, so you ‘d think that instead of reading other people’s books, I could just write my own. However, that’s far easier said than done. I make excuses that I’m constantly interrupted, or that my workspace isn’t adequate, since the counter barely has half a foot to work with in front of the keyboard, and my little notebook makes my hand cramped when I try and write in that space. And then I think, really? I’m really letting this stop me. I think that some part of me is afraid that the quality of my writing will suffer if I do it in a non-ideal place. But then again, I think real writers should be able to write anywhere, regardless of conditions. Didn’t J.K. Rowling scribble pieces of Harry Potter on napkins in a cafe?
Here’s to my little desk space complete with journal with scribbled scenes, gummies that some lifeguard gave me, and Kindle Fire open to Catherine Ryan Howard’s new book on self publishing. Yes, this is my summer.
Then I get home and realize I have no time to write because I need to re-organize my room (yes, I still haven’t unpacked from when I moved) and go to the gym, and the various other little things I need to do with my life. The only time I seem to find to write is at 3am, and then I can either go to sleep, or try to write something. Clearly, I’m too scared to write something, but I’d better start soon, considering I’ve been working on this book for nearly three years, and I’d really like it to be finished. I find myself wishing I could watch a movie of my characters or read the book already finished so I can know what happens, and then I realize that I’m the only person on earth that can make that happen. Wish me luck!