Focus, focus, focus

I am awakened at 5:05 by the pounding rain outside my window and the wind disturbing the leaves and acorns that have not yet fallen.

I’d gone to bed early to finish reading the novel that I need to leave for J when I go to Argelès tomorrow. My daughter says I pretend to read when I go to bed, for I often awake many hours later, the light still on, the book across my chest and my glasses askew on my face.

I listen to the rain then put the light and finish the novel.

Annabel comes and sits on my bed. She dressed in the flapper style of the 1920s. Despite her taking over the cookie factory, she’s never lost her love of clothing which annoys Dieter, her husband who is always  off on political junkets. Annabel has been a difficult character from the start. She has had to hid her strength in flightiness while maintaining the family business.

“I think I should have an affair,” she tells me. “Maybe the wheat salesman. Make him Canadian, blond, tall with a Swedish name.”

Annie appears at my door. “Okay, if my assignment is to write her life story from her journals, how and hell will I know this. She’d never write about it so anyone else can discover she was unfaithful.”

“Simple,” Annabel says. “I’ll write it in code.”

“And how will I break it?” Annie asks.

“You do cryptoquotes all the time. I’ll do a simple letter exchange, j for e, for example.”

Annie sighs. “But you’re writing in Swiss German.”

“So? Don’t be lazy.”

Annie turns to me. “Speaking of lazy . . . you’ve got to finish those corrections on Murder in Ely that J has sent up. That book has got to get to your publisher. And when are you going to format it?”

I know, I know. G, my editor, will want the manuscript not only perfect in the writing but in the spacing, the headings, the type size. Otherwise he’ll yell. Now we Skype I can listen to his rants rather than read his emails in caps saying “YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER” when a tab appears that I forgot to take out.

I nod. She doesn't need to remind her that I also need to proof the final copy of Murder on Insel Poel, but I’ve reserved the train ride tomorrow for that. And then there’s about 43 emails with stories for the newsletter that I will also need to work on today.

I get out of bed, close the window that muffles the sound of the rain, and take my computer back to bed with me.

As Annabel and Annie leave the room, they remind me to focus, focus, focus.

The clock reads 7:50 but it is really 6:50. The reset button is stuck so for six months of the year, the time is off. 

 

I’m ready to focus, focus, focus.