Icon by Peg Kerr Ihinger
This regular Open Mic post coincides with the Thanksgiving holiday week in the U.S., which is convenient! Good wishes and happy holidays for everybody, and happy turkey week for everyone in the U.S.
Happy Thanksgiving Open Mic
My wuss-mode-NaNo project, picked up where I had to drop it last November, is at 47,484 words. I am frustrated that I can’t seem to get one of those big avalanche-of-words sessions that would let me finish early, but really, the Apocalypse is coming along swimmingly.
I get to introduce the Other Major Complicating Factor soon, which one character has known about all along but the POV character doesn’t. Looking forward to that. (Cue evil writer cackle.)
On October 21st, our foster dog at the time was restless. He kept going over to the side door. My wife let him out more than once, but when he came back in he wasn’t any more settled.
So she went outside with him…and heard this mewing sound coming from our neighbors. The foster dog started whining in sympathy, and my wife talked soothingly to him. Then it happened.
This tiny kitten, unable to stand, her eyes not yet fully open, dragged herself out from under the neighbor’s porch, and started struggling through the grass to where she heard sympathetic sounds.
Determined enough to risk dangers she didn’t understand, desperate enough to do it anyway, she dragged herself across the grass to my wife, and near the foster dog who was blocked by the fence.
I came on out when my wife called, got the cat carrier, and my wife got on the phone. She volunteers with a couple of shelters (and I help out), and as she’d been sure, they were all full.
But one of the ones she volunteers with offered to accept the kitten if we would foster her.
A kitten that age needs feeding every four hours. My heroic wife volunteered to take care of the midnight session, but I joined in on the others. Making formula, cleaning up – she was far too young to understand a litter box – it was an enormous effort.
And, no surprise, my writing promptly ground to a halt, and only picked back up in the last couple of weeks. She’s gotten bigger, uses the litter box – and has her shots now, all of which is good. She’s grown, but hasn’t changed too much; she remains determined to follow her own agenda. But we still get our share of cuddling with her.
That said, I’m glad to be able to write again. Even though I remain exhausted. Playtime cannot be avoided!
Of all the things to stop a writer writing…