Locking the Door

I told several people that I am going to finish this draft of my current work-in-progress by August 8th, or lock myself in a room and not come out until I do. Even though the only available extra room with a door that shuts happens to be full of camping gear. And also has two bright pink walls and two bright orange ones (the girls couldn't agree on a single obnoxious color, so we settled for two obnoxious colors). Which gives the room a strange camping-with-creamsicles aura that may or may not be conducive to creativity.

Will sitting in the middle of this inspire the completion of my novel?

Unfortunately, what with my husband's birthday, and a family camping trip (yes, we do use that gear), and someone else's novel that I'm supposed to read and critique by Thursday, and also some silly appointments--does this mop of mine really need to be cut? Really? Does my kid really need his cavity filled?--that goal is in serious jeopardy.

So as of today, I am officially going into the creamsicle cave and not coming out, even for food.


Maybe for food.

That someone else cooks.


If you're cooking, you can shove it under the door. Or bring me creamsicles to go with the walls. Because, seriously, they're making me hungry.