Meet the Maewen

I am finding out that my 10 month-old daughter is very much like me. She loves sleeping, playing, and eating. She thinks really childish stuff is hilarious. She screams and cries a lot. And you can always tell when she's pooping because she makes the same face every time (eyes glaze over staring at some far off point, mouth slightly agape, neck muscles tensed, holds her breath... all just like her daddy). But all that stuff could be attributed to just about any baby. How I know my girl is like me is that she needs alone time. She likes to have some time to cool down at the end of the day; just laying in bed, not actually sleeping. If you try to interrupt her private moments, she'll smile and humor you, but will quickly roll away and pretend to sleep until you leave.

     Now, I love to hang out with my wife. We just finished re-watching all of Firefly last week and I've been making her sit through my favorite anime, Love Hina, this week. We love playing board games and we even tackled the awesome headache that is Epic Mickey together. But sometimes I just need to sit and let things percolate. I need to let my mind turn to mush as I play Heroes V or Age of Empires II. I need to let my day catch up with me so that I can sort everything out. This is especially true for me when I'm writing. I don't do too well with other people in the room when I'm writing. To a lesser extent, this is even true when I'm editing. I've tried grabbing my red pen and marking up a manuscript while I sit in bed and my wife reads a book next to me, but we invariably end up chatting about our days or about our daughter and our future or about how much we're looking forward to going back to Disney World.  Whatever it is, I just can't seem to get anything done unless I isolate myself. I've heard it said that writers do not make good spouses because they require so much undistracted time alone. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that for me it comes a large part from the fact that I am an introvert. I enjoy aloneness and the freedom to delve into the spongy corridors of my own mind.

     There are creatures there that I don't think most people would care to know about. I have no delusions that I hold within me a tarrasque, but there are at least one or two furry little creatures that I call maewen. They have big, googily eyes, short, caramel-colored fur, and tiny hands a feet. They're barely six inches tall, but their tail is nearly two feet long and ends in a fluffy little puff. It takes a lot of patience, quiet, and an awful lot of staring at nothing so that they don't think I'm staring at them, but when one ventures close I give it twizzlers and it gives me ideas for stories and we both leave better for the encounter. I've tried to get the maewen to leave their lairs in the presence of others, but they are far to skittish. A simple flash of light, a bit of music, or a ill-timed belch and they're gone, taking my ideas with them never to be seen again.