Pregnant things nest. Birds fly around like mad things trying to find somewhere peaceful to set up shop, then thieve every bit of soft fluffy stuff they can find to build a comfy home for the soon to arrive chicks. Wives do it too. About a month or so before the kid is due to pop on the scene they go absolutely mental and scrub and clean, polish, and remodel everything in sight, unwilling but terrified husband in tow.
Writers often refer to their books as children, and some have likened writing a book to giving birth. It involves a long and uncomfortable period of gestation followed by the arrival of a shiny bound thing with your name on. I think we may nest too, or at least I do.
I got this mad fit on yesterday and decided to absolutely trash my office. I ripped down cupboards and shelves that the previous occupant had kindly glued to the wall. I bought new book cases, built desks, loaded my jeep up with trash (I mean really loaded it up - I'm quite worried about driving it to the trash dump now cos there are these large sharp scary lumps of wood perched over the passenger seat at head height), and generally completely redesigned my office.
This morning I jumped up, fed Mac and Tosh (the dogs), and Digit (the cat), played a brief game of Full Spectrum warrior on the XBOX and then dove into the new book. 1500 words later, and here I am. The words just dripped out of my fingers. I'm really excited about this book. It's exactly on the topic that I want to write about, pitched at exactly the audience I'm most comfortable writing for, and it's going so well.
I had planned to get a bunch of work on the book done while I'm on vacation for the next two weeks, but I had never really consciously sat down and said "Pete, tomorrow you're starting work". It just happened. I can name one or two parents out there that said kinda the same thing before their lives turned upside down.
Let the gestation begin ;)