THE DOER –DOING THE TOSS AND TURN

I was born long before they came up with the term, Attention Deficit Disorder, but a friend recently diagnosed me.

She says I’m a doer. Actually, an over-doer because I usually work on several projects at the same time. (note that she didn’t say over-achiever. Some of the things I tackle are failures. I figure, “dream big.” ) If you don’t try, you won’t and can’t. So, I’m not afraid of trying something new.

I’m mostly a writer, currently working on two short (long-short) stories and an assortment of other shorts that will comprise my next anthology. If I can write one good chapter a day, I figure I’ve done a good day’s work.

I’m currently producing a set of fifteen country songs and hoping to move them up the line.

I’m thinking of writing a screenplay for my Molly Evers. I believe her stories would make a great TV series.

I also sew intricate items like Bridgerton costumes

I restore abused furniture.

I garden.

I clean my own house most of the time.

When I go to bed, I still say a prayer, mostly thanks and few requests, and not for myself.

These days, as soon as I turn off the light, my mind runs away with me.

I’m conjuring up solutions to help the Ukrainians win this terrible war. Aren’t there any of “the boys” left who do wet work and would take on removing the maniac in control over there? He bombed a children’s hospital yesterday. I’m pretty sure that makes him a war criminal.

I lie awake and worry about my pets. I have one 18-year-old cat whose brother died last month, and a ten-year-old-dog with an expected life span of thirteen years. Except for walks around the block, my dog (Abigail) hates going out. She trembles the whole time she’s in the car. I can’t lift her fifty-five pounds, so getting her into the car and out of the car, is tricky.

Sonny, the cat, doesn’t care what I do as long as his food bowl is full and he gets his daily “Brushie, brush.”

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I also dread the summer heat ahead of time and avoid thinking about it. May, my favorite month, is approaching, The temperature is nice enough to leave the doors and windows open. It doesn’t last long enough.

I think I should write another letter to the governor asking him to do away with Daylight Savings Time. I’ve written him and the last governor three times and, so far, been ignored. I never met anyone who didn’t hate the time change. I collect clocks, so you can see I have a motivation. I still have to get out my horrible auto owner’s manual out to change the car clock.

 I worry that my house isn’t spotlessly clean, but when you live with animals, a mess here and there is the price you pay for their companionship. One of my prayer “thankful fors” is for the love they bring into my life.

Finally, once I turn off the light and the TV and worry my way through my worries checklist, I think about what I’m writing, where to go next.

I’m not one of those systematic writers. I don’t do an outline. I begin with a personality, put him or her into a predicament, and try to come up with a solution. Many times, I get my best ideas while walking the dog.

So, advancing a storyline is usually my last thought at night. Unless I come up with a spectacular development, thinking about my current book is a real tranquilizer.

I hope when it’s published, it doesn’t put the readers to sleep—them, I want to stay up all night, turning the pages.

All of this is the reason I turn on the TV when I’m ready to go to sleep. If I pay attention to the TV, I’m not thinking about my projects. I don’t turn it off until I’m almost asleep. You know, that time frame when your mind almost gives up, stops being rational, and you see yourself ice skating in the Olympics?

Once I’m in bed, I go to sleep pretty fast. A few of my friends lie around for over an hour before they doze off. Not me. My trouble is, I wake up around four a.m., too stirred up to go back to sleep. That’s why I require an afternoon nap, twenty minutes, usually.

Don’t judge me, Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison were big believers in naps. I wonder if they were ever able to shut off their thoughts. I certainly can’t.

Even at the end of the day, my mind doesn’t rest. As soon as I go to sleep, day or night, I’m dreaming. Most of them, I forget a second after I wake up. A few would make good novel material, so I jot down a computer note. I have a file titled, “good words and plotlines” so I stick them there.

I wrote my first novel when I was sixty and am currently working on numbers thirty-two, and thirty-three, and a screenplay, and my songbook, and a . . . well, you get the picture.

I’m a doer.