It’s that time. It happens twice a year. Things get really ugly around here, and I mean that literally. I get ugly. My house gets ugly. My yard–ugly. My clothing choices–ugly. My food habits–ugly. It’s what I call Deadline Uglies. Or Duglies for short.

Right now I’m a few weeks away from turning in a book and have TONS to do. And when I’m trying to figure out how a book is going to end and how to say some magic words that will result in the month of July being 3 weeks longer, I just let everything else go, knowing I’ll get to it (or pay someone else to) when the literary fallout is over.

This is definitely under the category of oversharing, but I’m going to show you my my coffee table. Keep in mind I’ve had my butt planted on the couch for the last few weeks night and day with my laptop. Okay…are you ready for this mess?

I know–call the Health Department, right? It’s like Where’s Waldo. You can’t find ANYTHING in that. Let me dissect it for you.

Okay, we have notecards ALL over the place. At various points throughout writing the book, I will make notecards for what I think should, might, and possibly happen. Sometimes I actually remember to refer to them. Sometimes I look at one and think “What the HECK does ‘aliens blow up K-Mart’ mean?” Right now I’m at my favorite part, which is where most of the notecards are useless and I just need the ones for the ending. Endings are the best. Ending notecards mean I’m weeks away from a big massage and some time off.

There’s the TV remote. Sometimes you have to stop writing and check to see who’s on Judge Judy. This is usually when I’ve already checked my email, ETonline, and Facebook.

My calculator, my trusty TI-81. I’ve had this thing for like 15 years and it has never failed me, except when I calculated my BMI, but that’s another story and not really it’s fault. So I have a word goal. Like the book needs to be around 75,000 words, so I drag out the calculator in desperate moments to see how many pages that would be. Right now I think I need 1,208 more pages.

My water bottle. By the end of the night I will have about ten bottle lids (you can’t recycle those) and a luke-warm bottle beside me. This means lots of trips to the bathroom. Which means it’s also a great opportunity to check Facebook. Again. Because someone could have written on my wall since I checked it last. Two minutes ago.

A laptop mouse. I don’t ever use this because I finally found a laptop with a touchpad I can work. It’s only taken like 20 years. Any other touchpad mouse makes me feel like I have some serious motor skill issues, and I can’t work it, and I just get mad and start yelling. But this mouse stands ready in case I lose the touch and my palsy returns.

The yellow sheet of paper is a list of all the things I need to go back and fix when I’m done. Like item number one: 1. Add a main character. Or item number two. 2. Get rid of all the aliens.

There’s the VCR remote because a friend taped Camp Rock for me, and I really want to see how much the Jonas Brother truly know about rocking.

Hidden on the left is a tin of almonds. Because they are good fat. And I need some good fat to make all the bad fat feel less lonely.

There’s also a fruit/nut bar wrapper. I just found these babies, and I love them. These things are called Prana Bars. I have no idea what that means. Did they mean Piranha Bars? Anyway, it’s just organic fruit and nuts. The package says it has “Raw Enzyme Power.” I don’t know what that is, but I was hoping if I ate it and yelled, “Raw Enzyme Power!” over and over I would like fly or something. Or at least be able to finish the next page. So far no aeronautics to report, but maybe I just need to eat more. But at 13 grams of fat, it makes a girl seriously consider a Snickers bar instead because that makes my mouth so very happy.

Next we have a People magazine. Sometimes when I have no idea where the story should go, nothing inspires me more than seeing who Madonna is not having an affair with. This week I read about Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman’s baby who was named after a woman in Australia who had a love affair with two men. May Sunday Rose flourish in that legacy, Keith. “Little girl, who are you named after?” “A slutty Australian!”

Okay, so we have a Nancy Drew computer game on the left. I’ve only played it once, and it was freakin’ hard, and I spent the rest of the afternoon sobbing at my ignorance and crying, “I’ll never be a Sassy Sleuth! Why God? Why?!” Below Nance is a book that was supposed to be “fab,” but like all the other I’ve picked up lately, there are vampires and stuff in it, and I just get confused at the different species. I’m a one species girl myself. Keeps things easy.

There’s a wad of paper with my gum in it. I tried to get off the couch to throw it away, but my butt was glued to the couch cushion. I ate another Prana Bar to make myself feel better.

In the distance you see a purple yoga mat. Right after I throw my laptop against the wall, I like to do some downward dogs.

There’s a calendar where I mark down what happens time-wise in the book. My editor likes me to do this because she insists on things happening in real time. I personally like to do away with time, gravity, and reality, but she is a total stick in the mud. A few times I’ve had like two Fridays in a week, and she just wouldn’t have it. Nor was she into snow skiing in February. But now that I think about it, why should I do all the bending? Maybe we should compromise. I mean, like in On the Loose, what’s WRONG with a character having three arms?

We have a Bible study book by Priscilla Shirer. This one is about learning to hear the voice of God. And I TRY and listen for His instruction. And when I don’t hear it, that’s usually when the laptop throwing and the downward dogging happens.

There’s also some loose change on the table. I have no idea what this is from, but there’s almost enough there to buy a Twix.

Finally there’s a candle. When I’ve written a bunch of crappy pages, I like to use this decorative accessory and light them on fire. I recommend disconnecting the fire alarm first because I don’t have time to deal with a book AND a truck full of firemen. . .at least not this week.

Well, I have a book to write and a coffee table not to clean. Please do me a favor and just keep my messy ways between us. Pinkie swear.

JEN