In Praise of Cat Naps (And I Mean Cat Naps)

I realized this morning that my new novel, We Are All Made of Molecules, will hit bookstores in just under a month – May 12 to be exact.  On the one hand, this is obviously very exciting. On the other hand, it’s also a strange sensation because, and this is true for most authors, at this point I have written a whole ‘nother book – a first draft manuscript for which I now anxiously, nervously, await notes from my publishers. While I wait, I noodle the next idea, jotting things down, doing a bit of research.

So it’s this strange period of anticipation mixed with fear, and even though I should be moving further ahead with that brand new idea, I confess I wind up with whole days where I accomplish very little. This isn’t all bad – I think writers, like other working people, need periods of time to recharge the ol’ batteries. So I do more yoga than usual. I get out on my bike in the middle of the day and don’t feel guilty about it. I garden. I get caught up with friends, having lunch or on walks. I read. I spend too much time on social media.

And I nap.

I have always been a truly excellent napper. I used to feel guilty about this, until I read Stephen King‘s fantastic book, On Writing, in which he lovingly describes his daily afternoon nap. And when I nap, my cats inevitably nap with me. I don’t beckon them. I just lie down, and a moment later they appear, and hop up on the bed. When this happens, I so want to get a photo, but I physically cannot, as you’ll see shortly. Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I laid down to “read” (that’s my code-word for “nap”) on a weekend and Husband happened to be home. He got these shots.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s rather wonderful. Terribly cozy. A true cat nap!