Good God. I found the weasel. And a fireplace poker to hit him with.
You know, from Weasel Of My Dreams. Thank you, all of you who offered dream interpretations on that one. They were tremendously helpful. And thanks to Sara Donati, from whose weblog I found Jennifer Crusie’s website. Where I found both the weasel and weapon for dealing with him. Read Taking Out the Garbage: How to Protect Your Work and Get Your Life, for some of the best advice I’ve found on the Internet in quite some time.
My weasel is news. Internet, radio, television. I have personal reasons for having kept so close a watch on the Iraq situation, and those may become more personal in the coming months, but the news is eating me. Digging into my work time, my ability to concentrate on fiction, gnawing away at time for other things.
For now at least, I’m going to have to go cold-turkey on news. It’s likely to not be pretty. And there’s going to be a point where I start keeping track again (later rather than sooner, please God), but for now, I am about to join the great mass of the uninformed. Because if I want to take care of my family, first I have to protect the work, something I have been failing miserably to do.
Those of you who hated the political parts of the weblog just got your prayers answered, for a while, anyway.