I don’t like to get too ahead of myself, but I’m sort of making plans for Thanksgiving Day. I’ll probably be seeing my kids the day before or some days after and all of this is fine with me. They’ve got other places to go and I have no difficulty in being alone.
Instead of roasting a turkey, I may roast a chicken—got one in my freezer. In the past, I’ve roasted a goose but I don’t feel like looking for one at Kroger. A chicken may do.
And, hell, I might not even do that. I’ll be writing and cooking on Thanksgiving Day, in that order, and if I get caught up in the writing, I just may have a turkey or chicken sandwich for dinner. I’m talking lunchmeat here.
I remember starting to write my first novel, “The Hurricane Café,” on Thanksgiving Day. That was probably six years ago. I didn’t start my next novel, “Vevay, Indiana,” on that holiday, but I was working on it when I was supposed to be eating turkey.
“Vevay, Indiana” will come out next year. Now, I have another novel in my head. It has been there for a couple years now and I think on Thanksgiving Day, I’m going to start taking notes on it—even got the notebook to start the process.
In an interview with novelist Richard Ford some years back and around Thanksgiving, I asked them what he did on that day. He told me he usually works, that he usually writes. Maybe I’m copying the idea from him. I don’t think that’s all bad.
I hope you all have a good Thanksgiving, but I’m getting ahead of myself again. I’ve got a few more posts to write until most of you eat turkey. The next one will be on Sunday.
(Silly graphic from plus.com)