I was alone all weekend.
Long story short: we needed to refinish our floors. We have terrazzo throughout the house, which I love, but every few years, it needs to be stripped, sealed and polished. We like our floors to glisten (and they were becoming embarrassing--there were paths rubbed into the stone where grubby little bare feet [mine mostly] had smudged it with dirt). So I was left in the empty house with six gallons of industrial chemicals. If you're wondering why I'm a little loopy, blame the chemicals. I'm pretty sure I can feel the brain damage.
First off, there was a point on Friday night, at about 11, when I was mopping and I thought, "Check this out. I'm alone on a Friday night, and I choose to mop the floors."
But then, on Saturday, in between applying coats of sealant, I finished my whole revision. Yep. Just like that. I wrote for six, seven hours, unable to walk through the house and trapped in my room. I spent all day in front of the computer, only stopping to take a few quick laps in the pool and sit in the sun until I dried off. And I finished the draft. I want to tell you that it's great, but I'm afraid that might be just the sealant talking.
Then ... while I was finishing the revision ... I had an idea. And oh my, it was a lovely one. I don't know about you, but I have lots of ideas. Most are crap; a few are, "Hmm, I think I can work with it"; and every so often, one comes along that is, "Yes! Start writing NOW!"
It's called Monsterology.
I think it's hooky and high concept and funny, with tons of potential for a great story and lots of room to explore some of my favorite themes. Oh yeah, and it has monsters. So I went out to dinner with some friends, then came home and sat on the couch, outlining and fooling with this idea until 1 a.m. I got the whole story, pretty much all at once. I can't say how the book will turn out, but there's nothing like starting on a (sealant) high ...
So, yeah, I was alone in the house all weekend. And I divided my time pretty much between working on the floors and writing, which means I'm about the lamest guy in the world. But it was still a great weekend. My floors are gleaming, and I got loads of writing done. I guess this is when you know you're really a writer ...