Tantrums Are Part of My Process

I love writing. I love the art of sitting down and thinking very deeply and carefully about how best you can express an idea, or a feeling, or an experience. The act of writing is very rational. It turns out after all that I am a rational being. It’s just that my hormones are totally out of control, so most of the time I can’t hear myself think. Fucking hormones. But now that my metabolism has deserted me (I knew there was something bad about turning 25), my hormones have slowed down a bit, and now I can think.

So perhaps you’ve heard that recently I’ve gotten hired to write a book. Seriously, if you haven’t heard, you must live under the rock under which I live. Once hired, I was given a deadline of 3 weeks to put together the first draft, and 2 additional weeks to edit it for print. So, that’s 3 + 2. Which = 5. That’s 5 weeks. 5 whole weeks to write a book. My first book. S’no big deal. It’s not like I’m an incredible perfectionist or anything.

But two of those weeks are for editing. So that’s really 3 weeks to write a book. What topic am I writing my book about? Making Friends. Laugh now. Not really my topic. How to Alienate People? How to Disengage Yourself From Society? The Budding Agoraphobic’s Guide to Working From Home? Much more my speed. So I’m doing the best I can with limited resources and a lot of imagination.

Inevitably, the enormous weight of the task I’d so eagerly and ignorantly taken on began to quickly wear on me which each passing of the second. And of course the stars have aligned to make this as difficult as they possibly can for me. The Universe, basically has sent me to my room to think about what I’ve done. Seriously. My roommate isn’t even here to distract me. This is the karmic punishment I get for being anti-social all my life. I have to write an essay on how to make friends. Did I mention I’m not even smoking right now? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to write without cigarettes?!?!??

But I’ve been making good progress. If I haven’t learned to grit my teeth and get through it by now… (That came out a lot dirtier than I meant it to, but I have a point.) Until last week. Things were good. I had survived PRIDE week, and had gotten the book started. (Mostly by singing “Let’s Start At the Very Beginning” every time I got overwhelmed.) I’d handed in the first three chapters. I had a week to go, but I could do it. Then one of my cats had to be put down. Then, after I’d been babysitting at an amusement park fearing my imminent and violent death all day (and hadn’t eaten anything but raw sugar), I got a letter from my NEW editor telling me I was doing great, but I had to completely re-write my perspective. Oh, did I mention I was on my period?

What followed was a two-day long tantrum. There was crying. There was sobbing, actually. There may have been thrown objects. There was vodka. If you learn nothing else from me, remember: Vodka Helps. Needless to say, it was not cute. And unfortunately for the few friends I do have, Day Two included a party, and these poor bitches had to listen to me whine all day. (I showed a lot of cleavage to make up for it.)

How the hell am I not only supposed to write this damn book, but do it without being able to talk about myself? I don’t know how to not talk about myself. It’s how I communicate. Not only did I stomp my foot and refuse to not acknowledge my presence for one moment, but I literally doubted I would be able to do it. During this time, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t think, I wanted to quit. I wanted to quit real bad. I almost quit. I passed out instead.

Then I woke up, and I was all better. Fuck this noise, is basically what I said to myself that morning. The hormone tidal wave had passed, and I could think clearly again. So I looked at my first three chapters are realized that not only was the editor’s suggestion easy to make, but it made the book a lot better.

I lost a week to my period. So that’s two weeks. Two weeks to pull this bullshit together. Actually, right now I have 3 days. Three days and 6 chapters. 6 chapters / 3 days = 2 chapters a day. Oh. That’s not bad, actually. I can do that. See what happens when I am able to think!