Addicted to Two of the Three "Rs" (NOT 'Rithmetic)

I wish I could figure out a way to avoid going to work tomorrow. I really do love my job, and with a canine behavior seminar to run on Tuesday night, and employee evaluations on Wednesday, I definitely have plenty to do. If I’m less then my typical anal-retentive half hour early, Dr. Vet-Friends One and Two will undoubtedly form a search party. Oh, yeah, and I totally need the money.

The problem is that I am being held hostage by the written word.

So, I guess this blog is for all my fellow bookworms, who will absolutely understand this dilemma.

After reading several very light, humorous, contemporary-style books, I felt I needed something a bit more substantial for my next book. These decisions have to be made almost instantaneously, instinctively, because there must not be more than a couple of minutes’ lag-time between finishing one book and beginning another. Seriously, if my brain were allowed to drift, bookless, on its own for any significant amount of time, there’s no telling how much trouble I’d get into. (Oh, doG, what if I started watching reality TV???) I start reading when I get up, I read while I eat dinner, I read while I watch TV, I read in the bathtub, I read myself to sleep, I read while traveling (as long as someone else is driving… I’m not completely insane), I read any time I have to wait anywhere for anything. I keep an emergency back-up book in my car, just in case.

The “more substantial” book I chose was “Druids” by Morgan Llwelyn. Being a Pagan spirit with a love of Celtic lore, I enjoyed the book immensely. However, it was not what we book people refer to as “a quick read.” I adored the intricate history and the rich and mysterious Druidic customs. The unfolding of events as Caesar began his campaign to conquer the Druids’ homeland, the Free Gaul which is the location of modern-day France, was terribly complex, and difficult to follow if you failed to pay close attention to every word. Now, though, I’m seriously depressed. Which is pretty stupid, because I knew the Druids and the Celts got squashed by the Romans. No amount of Pagan, book-loving optimism can re-write history. Yet somehow I managed to be disappointed.

Sometimes I have to sift through the contents of my library book bag several times before I am able to locate something that suits my mood. I get a bit squirrelly when that happens, because it puts me dangerously close to going too long without a “book in progress.” On rare occasions, I have absolutely nothing suitable (usually because something stupid happened and I wasn’t able to get to the library on my day off). Then, I revisit my own book shelves and select an old favorite to re-read. Sometimes (like today) I have so many great books sitting here, just begging me to read them that I don’t know what to do!

I have one pile of borrowed books. These include two humorous David Sedaris memoirs, the one work of fiction by the disturbing (or so I’m told) Augusten Burroughs, and a funny, quirky “Nursery Crime” mystery by Jasper Fforde, all from my son’s girlfriend. (Finally, someone in this family that I can be all book-nerd with!) The other borrowed book is a massive 800-page fantasy novel by Storm Constantine, courtesy of Dr. Vet-Friend One. She says it’s fabulous, but I think I need a bit more available brain-wattage than I currently possess before starting that one.

I have one short stack (if two books can technically be referred to as a “stack”) of humorous books, including one called “There’s a (Slight) Chance I Might Be Going to Hell.” How do you resist a title like that, especially when you look at the back cover and see that it involves a desperate-to-fit-in wife entering a Sewer Pipe Queen Pageant?

I have one book in what I consider the “popular mass market fiction” category, “The Shell Game,” by Steve Alten. His books are usually sort of science-thrillers, like the ones about a megalodon (giant and supposed-to-be-extinct prehistoric shark) that turns out not to be quite as extinct as previously believed, and the one that provides what I felt was a pretty darned plausible explanation for the Loch Ness Monster. This one, though, is all oil-apocalypse, post 9/11, CIA, Middle East stuff, and to be quite honest I get enough of that shit on the news every day. Still, how do I rule this one out, when it’s Steve Alten?

The biggest stack, containing the leading contenders, is the “dark and kinda creepy, but with a sense of humor” books, and there are eight of them. These include new installments in several series I already read, such as the conclusion to Saintcrowe’s Dante Valentine series. Dante’s a necromance who kills demons, and who is now massively pissed off and trying to take down the Devil. Yeah, I've had days like that. I also have a few “first books” in some new series I’ve discovered.

The probable winner is the latest in Simon R. Green’s “Nightside” series. How do you not love a series that has a main character who is (on the surface) as normal as anybody else, but who commands enormous power in a place called the Nightside, which is actually a hidden dimension deep within London, and where it is always 3 AM? I mean, get this: "In the Nightside, the night never ends. Hidden away in the dark, magical heart of London, dreams go walking in borrowed flesh, and temptation and salvation are always on sale. You can find anything you want in the Nightside; if it doesn't find you first." AWESOME! Green’s dark, quirky humor always makes me laugh like crazy, even as the blood spurts and the bodies pile up.

As if the many, many books demanding my attention weren’t enough, the written word has yet another shackle around me. I’m writing again, and I am afraid to stop.

Some days I write better than others, but what I’ve learned is that if I stop, it may be years before I get the right mood and motivation to start again. When I’m not writing, I’m even less present in reality than usual. And believe me, I have enough issues as it is. Writing is the only way I know to work through things, and to keep that all-too-essential creative part of my brain alive.

I feel as if this recent return to writing has released something, and that I’m on a real path to… somewhere. I have no idea where, but I sense that there’s something wonderful waiting for me when I get there. Maybe a big-bucks book deal, so my husband can leave the job that he hates with every fiber of his long-suffering being, so we can “get away from it all” and be able to be the senior golden retriever sanctuary we’d like to be, and so we can spend our days with each other (always nice when you and your hubby really are each other’s favorite people). Maybe there is some sort of cosmic truth, something I will be able to learn about myself or the Universe, if only I am able to devote time working it through in my writing. Or maybe I’ll just write something that I think is so hilarious that I’ll aspirate coffee down my windpipe and snort myself right into an urn. Whichever, I feel like I’m compelled to keep writing, even if some days I’m not very good at it.

So, this is my dilemma. Yes, I’m sure I’ll go to work tomorrow, because I’m Just That Damned Responsible. (Curse you, proper upbringing!) I’m also now sure I’m going to read the new Green book, “The Unnatural Inquirer,” next, because John Taylor kicks so much ass. I’m sure I’m going to try like hell to blog something amusing tomorrow, because the dogs have been quiet today, which means they’re probably saving up energy to provide the comedic fodder I need. They’re thoughtful that way.

Somewhere out there is a reality where all I have to do is read and write. There are lots and lots of dogs, my loving and supportive (and hot) husband, occasional visits from a very few select people, acres and acres of woods around me, unlimited free satellite Internet access, and a weekly air-drop of food and library books. Oh, and a hot tub. Definitely a hot tub.

Now I just gotta figure out how to get there from here.

Which brings us to this evening, in which I need to spend some time with the dogs (hubby is busy watching the Packers play) and think about getting to bed early, because until I figure out how to get to that wonderful, Utopian, book reading/writing place, I still have to go to work tomorrow.