Waxing the cat
I’m doing it right now. I’m supposed to be writing this morning, but first I simply had to pop over to Facebook to see what’s happening in my little universe, and there was a post for Russ’s periodic stint on the group blog “A Good Blog is Hard to Find”. About cat waxing.
Talk about synchonicity. I think I need to write about waxing the cat this morning.
What, some of the sane people who have mistakenly wandered here ask, is waxing the cat? How could you wax the cat? Wouldn’t the cat object? And what would be the point?
The answers, of course, are:
(a) waxing the cat is what you do when you’re supposed to be writing but are running out of good excuses why you aren’t. “I had meant to write this morning, but the sink was full of dirty dishes, the TiVo was 99% full, and I simply had to wax the cat.”
(b) If you try to wax a real cat, it’s hard. You need protective gear and some sort of cat-restraining device. Possibly one involving duck tape. Or goose tape. Whichever you can find.
(c) Yes, the cat will object. Violently. Art doesn’t come without cost.
(d) Nothing whatsoever. And that is the point.
Cat waxing is about coping with authorial insecurity. If you can’t find the time to write, you can’t be blamed for being a hack. You can die secure in the knowledge of your blazing talent, which simply never had time to be realized.
Some of us are better at this than others. I’m freaking AWESOME.
Sadly, this is a far less important accomplishment than finishing the freaking novel. I’m going back to the study…just as soon as I finish commenting on Russ’s blog post.a writer's life, waxing the cat