I am gazing out my window trying to think a writerly thought. I see a squirrel run up the tree trunk. This reminds me of the chipmunk my cat brought in last week. They proceeded to play a wild game of chase and torture, though I don’t think the chipmunk was enjoying it. Finally the screaming chipmunk found refuge under the stove and I have not seen him since. I am hoping he was smart enough to slip out the open door when the cat wasn’t looking. This morning the cat brought in a bird—already dead—and used it for a game of toss and twirl. This is the nature of things. I got the cat a collar with a bell, but within a day he returned home collarless.
I check my email incessantly, as my editor has the latest draft of my novel. Actually she has had it since July but forgot she had it so I sent her the updated draft last week. Now I wait. Again. While waiting I have started something new, which I like but it’s way too early to show it to anyone. And then there is that picture book dummy that my editor likes but wants to wait until the first picture book comes out, to see if my sales warrant doing another. It’s the game of cat and mouse. But are we playing hide-and-seek or toss-and-twirl? And which am I–the cat, the chipmunk or the bird? I hope it’s not the bird.
I wonder how others play this game?
I don't know, I think I'd rather be the bird than
the rodent slowly decaying under the stove.