TSTL

Dear Know-It-All Writer,

I think I have a problem. You see, I'm afraid I've become the heroine in a bad B-rated horror movie. You know the ones...those women who are Too Stupid To Live. Notice I didn't say one of my heroines, because, well, duh, the heroines in my books are always smart. No, Know-It-All Writer, I'm concerned I've slid into that den of disparity punctuated by blood curdling screams and brainless bimbos who don't think before they act. And I'm in desperate need of your help.

It seems to have started some months ago. Possibly with the acceptance of my deadline. Now that deadline is upon me, and I'm working late into the night...when the house is quiet and all things creepy lay in wait. Last night I realized how severe my situation has become. I'd worked until midnight, in the zone, typing away, not noticing the house creaking or the children snoring or even the dim sound of the TV floating down from upstairs. Exhausted, I put my laptop on my desk, shut off all the lights and went upstairs. Minutes later I was tucked in bed, the TV off, the fan running, providing that calming white noise, the DH sound asleep on his side, oblivious to the world. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, thinking through the next scene in my book. And that's when I heard a thud, followed by a clank, and a creeeeeeeeeeeeek coming from somewhere below.

My eyes flew open. I lay where I was, barely breathing, listening for what had awoken me. Nothing in the room moved. The husband was snoring softly on his side. The dog was out like a light on the floor next to my side of the bed. The room seemed exactly as it had moments before. Then I heard it again. Thud. Clank. Creeeeeeeeeeeeek.

My mind spun. Had I locked the door downstairs? Had I thought to check the garage? I'd just seen video on the news that night about a random attack on the subway in Philadelphia. Crazy people were everywhere. Though I live in a relatively safe neighborhood, bad things happen all over.

My next thought should have been the safety of my sleeping children. Or my dear beloved husband. Or even my loyal dog. But no, Know-It-All Writer, I'm ashamed to admit my only concern at that moment was the fact I hadn't backed up my wip before going to bed.

I threw back the covers and jumped from bed. With no regard for the fact I was dressed in only a tank top and underwear, I tip-toed down the stairs. My mind rationalized there could be a murderer or a rapist in the house, or...egad!...a thief!!!! I mean, I write about thieves. I know they're real! Thinking about my precious book, the last sounded a thousand times worse than enduring bodily harm. (Unless, of course, it was bodily harm doled out by a sexy treasure-hunting thief like in one of my books...No! Wait! I won't let myself go there!!)

I know this sounds bad, Know-It-All Writer, but do you realize how many hours I've put into that manuscript????? I mean, it doesn't make me a horrible person for thinking of my book first, does it?

Heart pounding, I reached the bottom of the stairs. Peered around the corner. Nothing moved. The only light was the blue-hue from my laptop screen.

I breathed a sigh of relief. My laptop was still there. No one had taken it. My brain had been playing tricks on me. All was well...

Until I heard the Thud. Clank. Creeeeeeeeeeeeeek again.

At that moment, I knew I had three choices: 1) Run back upstairs and get the DH, 2) Race to my desk and save my precious laptop, or 3) Wander around like a bad B-horror movie heroine and check out the creepy noises on my own.

You guessed it, Know-It-All Writer. Considering I was already wearing the requisite skimpy outfit, and being the TSTL woman I am, I chose option number three.

I'm happy to report, in this case, the Thud. Clank. Creeeeeeeeeeeeeek was nothing more than the teenaged boy next door coming home from a date, running back out to his car because he forgot something, then returning to his house. In my silent, dark search through the downstairs level, I DID find the garage door unlocked, so there was one moment of heroics in my blond-bimbo stupidity. But I fear this pattern of behavior is one I am destined to repeat. I do not want to be a bad B-movie heroine. Therefore I throw myself into your wellspring of advice. What, prey tell, is a TSTL writer on deadline to do??? And am I the only writer out there in this blasted predicament?

Signed,
TSTL Writer