Tag: random

Dreary Saturday

Maybe I should have taken it as a sign when the gate started blowing shut as I was backing out of The Compound. But I got out, opened it again, and went to the gym. After all, the weather was even worse when I went there on Thursday night (yes, success! it was open!). About midway downtown, I remembered that I’d forgotten my book. I like to read if I do the stationary bike or the treadmill (since my only other option is to watch the news, and I go to the gym to get away from the world, not be subjected to it). I figured that since I didn’t have workout clothes with me anyway, I’d just spend all my time in the pool.

Funny thing. When you don’t go to the gym for eight months, things change. The pool now closes at two on Saturdays. WTF? I got there after three. So even though I didn’t have workout clothes, I forced myself to work out. The bike was excruciating, however, because I had to watch some stupid Hugh Hefner birthday thing. (Sorry, Lindsey.) So I didn’t do the bike as long as usual, but I made up for it by doing several other machines and stretching next to Muscle Beach (you’ll get that reference if you’ve read THE DEAL). Also, since it sucked so bad not to be able to swim, I treated myself to both the whirlpool and the dry sauna.

Now I’m off to eat a healthy dinner and watch a movie before I return to writing. And speaking of writing, last night I had this dream in which I figured out a bunch of plot stuff in the novel that was GENIUS! Except when I woke up, I realized I was actually coming up with new plots for The Young and the Restless. Not much use to me, but CBS? Call me. ‘Cause the show is mostly sucking these days.

Random writing stuff

The odd thing is that I’ve spent most of the months that we’ve written or talked about or avoided WHEN YOU DON’T SEE ME (the real title of TJB5) feeling a little uncomfortable with the narrator.

Ultimately, near the end, I realized that I probably felt that way because it’s what I needed to help the narrator have discomfort within himself.

Plus I found a thousand ways to relive one of the worst events that took place in my lifetime. It would have been crazy if that left me unaffected.

Now, here we are, on the brink of shipping a manuscript, and I find that it’s happened again. I fell hard for a character who’s about to slip beyond my control.

I can anticipate: yearning, loss, and anxiety. Then other characters will come between us (I do have another manuscript due March 1, after all), and I’ll be fine. Until the novel is actually released, at which time all my emotions will be condensed into one: terror. Until the first reactions come in. The people who love the book will help me relax and love it again. And the people who slam it will make me love it more. Ha.

At least I know what to expect now.

Bingo!

Have you ever gone to one of those bingo halls located in some unfamiliar suburban location? A big utilitarian building with fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look ten years older? Where the non-smokers are put into a separate, smaller room because the majority of the bingo players are smokers?

My sister loves bingo and she wins. A lot. She’s been able to take vacations with her bingo winnings. She buys those little pull tabs at the bingo hall and wins with them, too. When she comes to Houston, I generally find one of those bingo halls and go with her. I do not win. But that’s okay. I’m not there for the bingo. I like to watch the people.

For one thing, this is the ONLY place in Houston where people gather quietly. We truly have the noisiest restaurants and stores of any city I’ve ever been in. But the bingo hall is hushed. Players are concentrating on their bingo sheets and the caller’s voice.

I enjoy checking out the good luck totems people bring and set up around their bingo sheets. It reminds me of when I travel. I like to carry favorite stones and crystals with me and set them up in my hotel room or condo. I usually have nag champa incense with me, too, and if I get a chance to buy cut flowers, I’ll add those. I don’t know why I started doing this, but it always makes me feel safer and happier in an unfamiliar place. When I did it on my first visit to New York, it made the hotel housekeepers smile at me and ask me questions. In countries like Bali, my friend Tandy tells me, hoteliers and innkeepers actually do this for their guests–leave little iconic gifts with fresh flowers in their rooms.

So I totally get why bingo players like to arrange their little space with their lucky charms, their dabbers, their ashtray–everything just so. I was sitting at my computer today when I suddenly realized that in my busy-ness, I’ve kind of let things collect on my desk. Though these things have no particular significance to me, I told Tom I feel like a bingo player.

I hope I win.


Stress ball from Tom, Happy Meal doll, champagne cork from New Year’s Eve, bookmark from our niece.