Thursday, February 03, 2005

Gray Days

Page 200-something on my latest novel, and nothing is more important that finding the right way to get Jerry and his new alien friend back across the teleportation portal. At times like this, I want nothing more than calm, uneventful days, where the my mind is more occupied with alien worlds and character development than new and exciting developments in the real world.

Each novel gets to this place, and personally, I need isolation. Last novel it was sitting at the table in the RV, as it was parked in the back yard. This year, it is in the 'formal living room'. That's what Mary Ann calls it. It's a small, roughly circular room with bay windows looking out over the front yard. I have taken over a comfortable rattan chair next to a little table for my drinks and my iPod. I can close the entrance doors and pretty much have an isolated area all to myself. With the windows to my back for better lighting, and nothing really interesting in my field of vision, it is a good place to work.

Except for Patches. He's an old dog, and most of the day he sleeps. The thing is, he likes to be close to his people. I'll close the doors, sit down and work away on the novel. After a few minutes, he'll nose the door open, walk in and examine the chairs. Most often, none of them suit and he curls up on the floor, out of sight and mind for a while.

His dreams are interesting. It's quite a challenge to imagine what he is dreaming, given his muscle twitches. Sometimes he's clearly running. There is dream-barking, dream-chasing, dream-marking-terratory-and-scratching-the-ground-with-his-hind-legs. All good doggie dream activities. I'm content he's here.

If he just wouldn't leave the door open.

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