I’m trying to carry on three fairly intense relationships at the moment. Simultaneously. And it’s no fun, let me tell you. I don’t know how some reprobates can do it with ease. I think it’s way too much pressure, trying to do right by more than 1 loved one at the same time, and still have time to wash socks. Something’s got to give; and let’s face it, it’s never the socks.
To date, I’ve completed three novels, and each is now being as demanding as the other. I’m supposed to spend this year submitting the bejesus out of them, until I’ve exhausted every last option, before I even think about writing another one.
But I’ve been having some fairly hairy conversations with them of late.
First Novel: Hey. Psssst. Tara. Over here. C’mere ’til I tell you something.
Tara: Not now, First Novel. I’m still trying to fix the closing chapter on Third Novel and finish its synopsis, which is a pain in the arse.
Third Novel: Hey! You keep pinning everything on me, but I’ve been doing my best.
Tara: I know you have, love. It’s just that your last chapter absolutely sucks.
Third Novel: And whose fault is that?
First Novel: Stop hogging all the airtime, Third Novel. Shuddup. Listen, Tara. You need to send me out. Haven’t I already done right by you? You got me professionally edited. I did well in competition.
Tara: I know, I know. It’s just that you’re so – I dunno – 2010, or something. Can’t you try to be a bit more relevant?
First Novel: [sniffs] Who wrote the recession into me?
Tara: Yeah. Sorry about that.
Second Novel: Oi! Tara baby! Don’t listen to them. Look, you know I’m your best bet at that competition next week. Hands down. You should be concentrating on me.
Tara: Yeah, I do know that. But I don’t have the time to concentrate on you. You’ll have to wait your turn like everyone else.
Second Novel: Don’t you dare. I’ve been waiting patiently for 2 years now. All we have to do is lose weight around my middle, plug that gaping plot hole in Chapter 48, and I’m your ticket to greatness.
First Novel: No, I am!
Third Novel: Screw you!
Tara: Would you all stop shouting at me! I can’t do 3 submissions in one week.
First, Second and Third Novels [in unison]: COURSE YOU CAN, TARA! LOVE YOU TARA! WE WANT YOU TARA!
Tara: Oh, for God’s sake. What a load of sycophantic bollix. I have to go now. I have socks to wash.
So that’s life at the moment. A catfight between me and, well, myself, and that’s not counting the day job, which always wins.
But the novels are getting really whiny. Cheesed off with being juggled, picked up, put down again, and not even being given a nice satiny piece of underwear to show for it.
Who else is juggling out there? Is any of your work fighting back?