Sunday, September 11, 2011

The REAL Writers of Cozies

by Leann

Although this is 9-11 and we are remembering--and boy could I tell a story or two since my daughter had just moved to NYC in 2001--but sometimes we can get overloaded by looking back. Especially with all the media coverage. I will let others blog about it today, probably far better than I could, while I go for some lighter fare. Maybe distract us for a moment or two with a smile. So here goes:

Unlike the real housewives of ANY PLACE, the real writers of cozies are about as glamorous as cement. We don't do lunch, we don't go out to fancy restaurants for dinner, we don't get drunk and fight with each other, we don't get our nails and our hair done much, in fact--correct me if I'm wrong any cozy writers out there--we often spend the day in rather unattractive pajamas or sweats while we write. Here's a fun fact. I was getting to write the final chapters but I had to leave my computer for an hour. See, I desperately needed to visit the chiropractor. Neck, hands, arms, back--all screaming for relief. I entered the office and as I was waiting to see her, I looked down and realized I was still wearing my slippers. I immediately did a quick body check to make sure I was wearing clothes and NOT the pajamas. Thank goodness no PJs.

In other words, the real writers of cozies are not rich and famous and looking for drama. We're just ... dedicated? Is that the right word? My husband would say dedicated to a fault since he hasn't seen a home cooked meal in two months. Why am I writing about this today? Because I just finished a book and now, back in the real world, I am confronted with the monstrosity once known as MY HOME. It is a certifiable disaster zone. Usually after finishing a book, I am too exhausted to do much of anything for at least a week. But this time, my sister was coming into town and I was forced to face the mess and deal with it quickly. At least rearrange piles of junk so she could wheel her suitcase into the guest room.

After finishing this manuscript, I realized I was like a prisoner coming out of "the hole." You know--solitary confinement. Then I was forced into "punitive work detail" to complete my punishment. Laundry, dishes, grocery shopping and maybe even cooking something. I did not clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush, but they probably could have used it. When was the last time I didn't eat out of a box or a can? I cannot remember. So, perhaps tonight I will make real food--with my sister's help of course. In fact, I'm going to put that woman to work as soon as I finish writing this. :-)

When was the last time you ignored the daily chores and submerged yourself in something that you knew took priority? Was it for your job or to finish a project? Tell us about it!