I recently paid a visit to the dental hygienist, a lovely woman named Tracy. I’ve been her patient for more years than I care to remember. We chat during those short spurts of time between her scraping my teeth and her sighing with exasperation as she goes in search of more menacing tools.
During one of these short respites, I tell her, “The third book of my trilogy is coming out this week.” I then take the opportunity to lick my lips and soften the stinging cracks that tend to develop when fingers plus tools are crammed into my mouth.
“Already,” she said. “That was fast.” And then she dove back in with both hands to the musical accompaniment of a Dremel, leaving me to my thoughts.
Already? I wondered. Fast? Those words didn’t fit. It feels like a lifetime ago that I typed The End. I remember how good it felt to finish writing that first draft of the third book. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it, though the memory is fuzzy…possibly because a delicious bottle of Amarone was involved.
And now that I’m into a new writing project, “The End” seems even further back there, so “already” and “fast” are a little disorienting. I’m reminded of the first time you see the spring fashions in the shop windows on store mannequins. You shake your head and shiver thinking of the frost you just stamped off your boots.
I feel like one of those mannequins. I’m out of sync.
If only I could have said “already,” and “that was fast,” when she finally holstered her scary hygienist’s tools. Are you out of sync? Tell me all about it while I go grab some lip balm.
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