Who Is It This Time?

 Something in my house is trying really hard to get my attention.

I know, I know. I write constantly about the noises and disturbances that turn up when I'm writing. This is nothing new to anyone who knows me or to some people who write the same kinds of things I do. I know others who have mentioned the same kind of thing happening to them when they work. Maybe we ought to form a support group, but that's another story.

At any event, whatever is going on now is remarkably more assertive than the usual footsteps or sounds of furniture shifting that I normally experience when I'm goofing around with my ghost stories. Maybe it's because I'm working on two projects at the same time?

(And there's another thing people who know me well are aware of: I rarely write two things at the same time. I read somewhere that Isaac Asimov used to write at least two different books simultaneously. I don't know if he split his day between the two or had two different typewriters set up so he could move between them, or what. I just remember that upon reading that particular fact, I was totally impressed. I couldn't imagine doing it. And I remember thinking that my brain would explode if I tried.)

On the other hand: I wrote a nice little novel called Ghostwalk (that may make its debut as a Bridgeton Park Cemetery Bonus Book at some point in the future) while I was working on Saving Jake. I also had Missing Persons going on my back burner while I was completing Drawing Vengeance. And to top it all off, I also had to complete my short story "She Loves You" for the anthology Lyrical Darkness over that same stretch of time. So maybe I ought to just realize that yes, there have been times I have worked on two (or, gasp, maybe more) writing projects at the same time. 

I suppose it's like being at school and having homework in different classes simultaneously. Maybe I can look at it like that.

But back to what I'm doing now and what's going on in the house. I am currently struggling with, er, writing Book 4 of Bridgeton Park Cemetery. I have also been invited to write a longish short story (say, 25,000 words) by a good friend for something she's got coming up in June. Needless to say, I accepted the invitation. But more on that at a later date. So right now, I should really be working on two things at once. Because of that, I have ghosts on the brain. (Did I mention I'm also deeply immersed in the books I wrote about buying for research a couple of blog posts ago?) I should be steeped in the supernatural little buggers.

And so the house is now behaving accordingly. It started last week when I was in the bathroom (doesn't it always?) finishing up my morning routine and heard someone walking around in the house. That happened twice, and both times I literally searched my entire house to find all the doors and windows locked and no one there. Of course there was no one there. But over the weekend-and once again in the bathroom in the morning-I heard the TV going and decided that Jim had come home from his workout early. I could hear the background voices chattering away. So I opened the bathroom door to greet him but the noise stopped as abruptly as it had started. Jim wasn't home. The TV wasn't on.

That afternoon while we were indulging in a series we're currently binge-watching, I heard a strange noise from around the corner and down the hall. It sounded to me like a cabinet opening, or maybe closing. It sounded mechanical. I looked at Jim and asked, "Did you hear that?" "Yes," he said, and added, "It sounded like a cough." 

A cough? He heard a cough? That bothered me more than the idea of a cabinet opening or closing although I'm not exactly sure why. No cabinet should have been making noise and no one should have been coughing in our hall when all two of us in the house were in the same room.

Things continue in this vein: footsteps walk past the door when I'm in the bathroom. I've heard the refrigerator door open (a very distinctive sound, with our appliance.) More than that, there's a feeling in the house now. Like someone waiting. I just have no idea what they're waiting for. Oh, and just for the record, while I was typing this sentence, I heard a loud tap from the direction of the kitchen. Clearly someone wants something.

Maybe if I finish my writing projects, it will go away. 

And then, of course, when I start writing the next book something else will arrive...