So my plan to get going on the new novel failed. It all started out fine. I packed the canvas bags, drove the kids to camp, went to yoga and headed home to start work. Then the phone rang.
It was my oldest son calling from camp. He was sick. Coughing, sore throat. I passed the exit for my house and stayed on the highway. I called the doctor and made an appointment. Home at noon. Doctor at 1pm. Home by 2pm. He’s not that sick, it turns out, just very good at being twelve. Then it was time to pick up the other kids. Mom beats writer every time. The day was gone.
Fast forward and it’s Saturday afternoon. Kids home all day. Nothing to do. Granted we have a pool and they have each other. Still, there’s nothing to do. Except watch TV. So I pile them in the car and drive to Chinatown for soup dumplings at Joe’s, some plastic Naruto figurines and a gigantic folding fan thing. Home again.
I give in to the pleas for Han (computer game) and go to my hammock with the paper. Soon after, my youngest, Christopher joins me.
Christopher is 7 and he can draw cartoons like a professional. His passion is relentless. He sketches day and night and studies with a professional artist who teaches him how to make a character look “accessible,” or reflective, or mischievous. Not unlike life, one stroke can change the mood entirely.
Christopher and I often talk about writing books together. He will do the illustrations and I will write the words. The content of the story is always collaborative. We decide today that we will work on our story about the devil. We like the devil because he can have complex expressions and moods and because our devil walks the earth and must interact with humans. And our devil will ultimately have a conflict that pits good against evil and makes the reader think about humanity. What could be better?
The hammock is swinging back and forth, the night air so perfect we can’t feel it one way or another against our skin. Christopher shows me the book cover for our book, The Devil Man – a green devil with white horns and black pants. He is the most clever creature with intelligent eyes and a knowing smile. His stance is playful.
“What’s next?” I ask him. “Should it be the part when he takes human form?”
“No, no, no!” my son says. “You see, in books, you can’t just give away the whole story. People need to find out the devil takes human form but first we have to take them to the graveyard where he picks out the body. Everything has to be in order and we have to make them have that thing … what’s that thing?”
I am speechless but I find the word he’s looking for. “Suspense?”
“Yeah! Suspense. So I’ll go draw the graveyard scene.”
He runs back inside and I suddenly feel better about the days when mom beats writer in the war over time.
Monday will be here shortly.