Times When A Writer's Head Sux
My bathroom was done in the sixties and it's so beautiful and funky and magical. I haven't touched it since we moved in here a while ago, and I love everything about it- including the bathroom stall. It's this little inset hidey-hole so you can have privacy in your privacy.
I haven't been in there for nine days now. The good news is there are plenty of other loos to use. The bad news is that this little sabbatical is yet another example of my writer's head getting in the way of normal life.
I got a wasp, yo.
So nine days ago, I went in there, turned on the overhead light and heard zzzzzZZZZZZZ. Looking up, I saw this thing that was the size of the horse buzzing around INSIDE the inset light. I have no idea how the sonofab*tch got in there. It's sealed all the way around- did he break into it? Pull some V sh*t and get his sneak in? My thing is, why bother? No TV, no food, no friends- how you gonna watch the game? Lot of effort for not much reward IMHO.
Unless he was looking to permaminently displace me from my bathroom.
Then yeah, mission accomplished, you little sh*t.
See, nine days ago, I stared up at that mad b*astard and I was like, Jess, seriously, you got this. He's trapped in there. No way out. You're good.
And that was when the writer's head kicked in. Next thought I had was of me sitting on the throne and that stinging crazed one ounce dive bomber shooting out and going Uzi down the back of my neck and spine until it nailed me in the a&&. Specifically, I could feel the buzz at the short hairs at my nape, and the tickle of the wings under my clothes, and the electrical shock of the sting in my skin.
Thought two was of me in anaphalaxis in the ER getting paddled because my heart stopped when they EpiPen'd me.
Did I mention I'm not actually allergic to wasps?
Like any reasonable crazy person, I slammed the stall shut and ran around the bathroom like someone had stink bombed the place, fanning my hands around my head and scaring the dog. Then I ran out, shut the other two doors and panted like I had narrowly escaped from a dark alley.
This is all crazy, of course. The fear, the trembling, the thought racing. The trouble is, I spend my life living in parallel universes where I sense and feel and see everything with such clarity and specificity that I am WITH the people I write about. Thus, when I get a OHOHOHOH WASP thing, I ride it out until it's like I'm in that Mercedes with Trez and Selena and we're ***** ** ****** * ** ******* (edited out so no spoilers from The Shadows.) It becomes impossible for me not to be convinced that the wasp is down the back of my shirt every time I think of going in there, or even look at the outer door of the bathroom. And this happens in a thousand contexts in a million ways every single day of my life.
Yes, I'm in therapy.
And my husband in an angel on this earth.
And some of the best writers I know are really flipping crazy (I know I am. Crazy, that is.)
Anywho, next day, I decide I'm going to BBQ the wasp by turning on the light and letting it get good and hot in there. (Fry, mother*cker, firrrrrrrrrrrrre.) Hours later, I checked and didn't see anything buzzing in there- but I still closed the door and haven't been back there since. I know I'm going to have to get over this, but it's exhausting to fight the fear- especially when I have to finish The Bourbon Kings and then write the first book in my third series (which comes out December 2015!!!)
I got to get on this. I mean, really. The da*n thing has to be dead by now. Really.
*insert ZOMBIE WASP plotline here*
Crap. Now that I've admitted all this, I feel like an idiot. But I don't know, I'm more comfortable being honest about things. And the irony is that talking in front of a thousand readers is something I love and look forward to- but I've heard public speaking is the most come phobia? Man, I love that sh*t. But ask me to do ten rounds with my writer's head over a wasp in a ceiling light and I'm shakin' in my boots.
Wouldn't change a thing, though. The Brothers make it worth it ;). So yeah, shout out to all the writers who also deal with squirrely heads and scary hypotheticals and have to conquer baseless fears daily. We're in this together, people.
Write on!
I haven't been in there for nine days now. The good news is there are plenty of other loos to use. The bad news is that this little sabbatical is yet another example of my writer's head getting in the way of normal life.
I got a wasp, yo.
So nine days ago, I went in there, turned on the overhead light and heard zzzzzZZZZZZZ. Looking up, I saw this thing that was the size of the horse buzzing around INSIDE the inset light. I have no idea how the sonofab*tch got in there. It's sealed all the way around- did he break into it? Pull some V sh*t and get his sneak in? My thing is, why bother? No TV, no food, no friends- how you gonna watch the game? Lot of effort for not much reward IMHO.
Unless he was looking to permaminently displace me from my bathroom.
Then yeah, mission accomplished, you little sh*t.
See, nine days ago, I stared up at that mad b*astard and I was like, Jess, seriously, you got this. He's trapped in there. No way out. You're good.
And that was when the writer's head kicked in. Next thought I had was of me sitting on the throne and that stinging crazed one ounce dive bomber shooting out and going Uzi down the back of my neck and spine until it nailed me in the a&&. Specifically, I could feel the buzz at the short hairs at my nape, and the tickle of the wings under my clothes, and the electrical shock of the sting in my skin.
Thought two was of me in anaphalaxis in the ER getting paddled because my heart stopped when they EpiPen'd me.
Did I mention I'm not actually allergic to wasps?
Like any reasonable crazy person, I slammed the stall shut and ran around the bathroom like someone had stink bombed the place, fanning my hands around my head and scaring the dog. Then I ran out, shut the other two doors and panted like I had narrowly escaped from a dark alley.
This is all crazy, of course. The fear, the trembling, the thought racing. The trouble is, I spend my life living in parallel universes where I sense and feel and see everything with such clarity and specificity that I am WITH the people I write about. Thus, when I get a OHOHOHOH WASP thing, I ride it out until it's like I'm in that Mercedes with Trez and Selena and we're ***** ** ****** * ** ******* (edited out so no spoilers from The Shadows.) It becomes impossible for me not to be convinced that the wasp is down the back of my shirt every time I think of going in there, or even look at the outer door of the bathroom. And this happens in a thousand contexts in a million ways every single day of my life.
Yes, I'm in therapy.
And my husband in an angel on this earth.
And some of the best writers I know are really flipping crazy (I know I am. Crazy, that is.)
Anywho, next day, I decide I'm going to BBQ the wasp by turning on the light and letting it get good and hot in there. (Fry, mother*cker, firrrrrrrrrrrrre.) Hours later, I checked and didn't see anything buzzing in there- but I still closed the door and haven't been back there since. I know I'm going to have to get over this, but it's exhausting to fight the fear- especially when I have to finish The Bourbon Kings and then write the first book in my third series (which comes out December 2015!!!)
I got to get on this. I mean, really. The da*n thing has to be dead by now. Really.
*insert ZOMBIE WASP plotline here*
Crap. Now that I've admitted all this, I feel like an idiot. But I don't know, I'm more comfortable being honest about things. And the irony is that talking in front of a thousand readers is something I love and look forward to- but I've heard public speaking is the most come phobia? Man, I love that sh*t. But ask me to do ten rounds with my writer's head over a wasp in a ceiling light and I'm shakin' in my boots.
Wouldn't change a thing, though. The Brothers make it worth it ;). So yeah, shout out to all the writers who also deal with squirrely heads and scary hypotheticals and have to conquer baseless fears daily. We're in this together, people.
Write on!
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LOL!!Okay this would be my house because I too am a total girl about bugs in any way shape or form. Also, the zombie interlude and random places the brain goes? Yes. Also happens.
I've got two novels out their published and, if you have time to read all these comments, your take with the Brothers and your point of view as a writer is something I find very inspiring. The way you talk to the Brothers is really similar to the way my characters talk to me...sometimes with a freaking megaphone...so thank you for what you do.
I am with you on this! I would have run and that bathroom would be off limits to me. I laugh as I read this but it feels good to know I am not the only one.
Do you want to hear the story of the bees that chewed a hole through my dining room ceiling and began falling on the dinner table?
As I read this, Devina was the first thing that popped into my beanie brain!! She was a tad bit obsessive too, as I'm sure you well know! Ha!! So, just as long as you don't develop a watch obsession, I think you're good to go!! Happy writing!!!
Was that the Warden's way of ensuring some of us die-hards are "commmitted" before Superbowl Sunday hits?Third series?? Is there a J.R.Ward support group? Maybe one for the unfortunate families of said die-hard fans who no longer have dinner made for them or clean socks to wear? Third series??
I'm with you. I don't do wasps or bees.
OMG!!! i do the same thing with spiders bees and wasps!!! glad im not the only crazy person! last time i saw a spider it was on the wall and i spent 15 min standing across the room chucking shoes at it! LMAO! thank god hubby came home cuz im a terrible shot!
I am so petrified of bees that I pretend that I'm deathly allergic to them. I gotcha' girl.
LMAO I instantly thought WWTKD, what would the king do? As he cant see, he would get one of the bros to go attack with wasp spray.unless Beth wanted it captured and set free to reign terror on the lessors, There's a pic in ur head
im so with you. a few years back in the summer I was helping my nan with her shopping, at the green grocers a wasp flew up my skirt, I was stung 4 times on my bum before I could get to their loo and get the monster out. a very sore few days followed, I now avoid them like the plague, absolutely terrified of them so I would do exactly the same
As a fellow writer with OCD... I.get.this... The inside of my mind is a crazy place.
I loathe the buzzing, flying creatures. My thoughts would have been similar because yes, i`ve trapped my fair share of spiders underneath plastic cups. However my thoughts strayed to thinking i will kill the effing thing by spraying it with the first thing I find. I mean if aerosols kill the ozone it should kill a spider, true? Then i admittedly bust out in a hysterical laugh picturing a spider with an all out heavy metal 90s hair do because the first spray I found was my Aqua Net.... Crazy is the best kind of insanity.
You need a old-fashioned can of hair spray, the kind with a ton of lacquer in it. Spray the little effer then pick up his suffocated carcass with the dustpan and flush him. That's what I do -- and I AM allergic to them!
Omg, I love the way you express your self! But you should see some of these big a&& water roaches that come form the field near my house, they are like 3 in long and fly at you and they really look like great big roaches, yuck. Luckily I have never found one in the house.
I can totally relate to what you've done and how you've handled it. But if your husband is an angel on this earth, why hasn't he gone into the closed loo and taken care of the ba&*#d! He needs to be your hero here!!
I was having the most horrible day until Now. You f...in kill me I have never laughed so hard. I can just picture you doing this. I would be the same way with a spider. What I want to know is Did the f... er die?
lol No, see, that is where some of us differ. I would catch the poor little fellow in a container and release him back outside. Public speaking however, that is absolute panic, never going to happen. I will hide under the table and then run as soon as I can.
I love your brain. But you know we will all be going crazy now about this third series...
Throw me into a pit full of spiders or snakes or trap me in a room with one wasp? I'll take the pit, thanks. Growing up, my house exterior was wood and the wasps loved it and getting into my bedroom and on my window screens. I would spray them with hairspray and glue them to the screen before extermination.
My current house also has wood exterior, oh joy, more wasps.
My husband just shakes his head as I run around screaming like a banshee when one flies around me.
God, they freak me out with their dangling legs...
If it makes you feel better I've had a frog living in my upstairs toilet for the last month. Have no idea how that f***r got there. So glad I'm not the only one these type of things happen to!
Lol!! We've all been there, sister. A few weeks ago, I had to call in the husband to kill a spider that had gotten into my shower. If not for the fact that the kids were in the bathroom brushing their teeth, I would have instead run screaming out, buck a$$ nekkid.
I can't read anymore of this thread.....it's making me paranoid around my own house!!
"The trouble is, I spend my life living in parallel universes where I sense and feel and see everything with such clarity and specificity that I am WITH the people I write about."I didn't write your books (or any books for that matter), but I, too, spend my life living in the parallel (more precisely, the Brotherhood) universe. For example, I like "talking" to V when I need a shoulder to cry on. I don't have a brother of my own, but broad similarities in our upbringing make me feel like he would be the kind of brother I would like to have had :)
I can relate. To the wasp issue and the crazy thing.I have no problem with mice, cockroaches, spiders, bees, etc. But if I even hear tale of a wasp nearby, my white a** is running like a battalion of orcs is after me.
I would always roll my eyes at my mother-in-law when she'd call me up to come over and remove the dead animals her cat dragged up to her porch. Especially lizards (Lizards? Really?). But when I was trimming the bushes surrounding her house and some wasps flew out at me, I screamed like a little girl at a frickin One Direction concert and ran like the wind.
Needless to say, I don't go near those bushes anymore, I don't care what time of the year it is. They know who I am and may have made plans to attack me when I least suspect it.
Yeah, we writers are funny people.
I would have been completely Audi 5000, threw up my peace sign and sped off like Speed Racer LOLLLL!!!!
I know exactly how that is. I've been a creator all my life, a writer and an artist (I'm crap at both, in my opinion), and my imagination going wild is something that happens to me a lot.Like, at work I do the night shift at the hotel for the desk and I sometimes see things at the corner of my eyes that aren't there or I see think I see things on the cameras that aren't there and I start thinking 'please don't let there be a ghost or poltergeist' or 'this is not The Shining, stop freaking out' or even 'I do not have enough salt for my circle to protect myself and no iron big enough to fight with'.
Or, I go to the realistic approach and worry about someone sneaking into my hotel or someone coming in to rob me. Then I'm just like 'can I run and lock the door fast enough after I fling the money in their face?'.
Sometimes I really hate being in my own head because it goes to some really dark places.
And this always happens in the middle of the night, this paranoia and suspicion. Always.
This is so amusing because you seem like such a badass writing BDB yet a contained, crazed, horse-sized wasp has you near anaphylactic shock! Thanks for the funny blog post!
Suggestions: make sure your outside trim and windows are all good and caulked because that's how they get into your light fixtures...through the ceiling. We had that happen with yellow jackets, but they actually were getting out of the fixtures somehow. Or finding another hole somewhere, because there were a couple dozen loose in the house. My husband also found the nest outside and destroyed it.