May 1, 2013
I’ve been writing a lot lately. This is a good thing for my fiction. Apart from getting one project finished, it also means that my fiction juices, so to speak, are flowing abundantly. My brain it truly teems with endless schemes, both good and new. I’m fired up, I’m excited, I want to write ALL THE THINGS.
Sadly, life will insist on intruding into my writing time. I managed to ignore life for a bit while I finished the project o’doom, but while I was doing so, my desk became a minefield of bits of paper with jobs-to-do on them (some of which didn’t get done, as evidenced in Monday’s post). So before I wade into the wondrous seas of NEW! SHINY! PROJECTS! I have to sort through the detritus and try to reclaim the non-writing portion of my life.
Now, clearly, I can’t do this kind of work on my own. We all know that writers are fueled by caffeine and chocolate and I am no exception (although I would also add potatoes to that list – it’s the Irish heritage). But when it comes to the tedious-but-necessary non-writing tasks, the writer needs more. I don’t just need caffeine, I need moral support with my caffeine. Someone cheerful and encouraging, but quiet and very unlikely to make ‘helpful’ suggestions. Fortunately, I have just such a friend.
Allow me to introduce Bruce:
For those of you not familiar with the concept, Bruce is a tea-cosy. He is made of wool (what else? he’s a sheep) and sits over my adorable small, just-for-me-sized teapot and keeps the tea warm. He is special for several reasons.
First, and possibly most important, he’s adorable. He makes me smile and trust me, when I’m sorting out finances and the like, I need all the help I can get with that. Second, he’s hand-knitted and being in the presence of awesome handcrafts also makes me very happy. Third, he was a gift, from my Mum and one of my sisters, who found him in a craft shop and had to bring him home. (There is nothing that shows our kinship more than our inability to leave in a shop a truly fabulous piece of craftiness.) Fourth, he is the perfect size for my little teapot, which was a gift from another sister, which has a serendipity that pleases me. And fifth, his name is Bruce and for reasons I can’t explain, it’s a name that makes me smile. Especially when given to a sheep tea-cosy (The sister who bought him named him, once again demonstrating the kinship.)
Although, now that I think about it, we are not the only people amused by the name Bruce for animals…
Although my Bruce is, I’m sure you’ll agree cuter. And not as dangerous.
I just hope that he has as much stamina as a shark. Because I foresee him getting something of a workout over the next few days as I detangle the cat’s-cradle of crud I’m drowning in. Wish us luck!
What are you up to your eyeballs in?