By Dame Toni

I don’t have television.

That’s not to say I don’t have a television–as it happens, I have two. I just don’t currently have a way to watch them.

Since those darned publishers expect me to actually write the book before they pay me for it, and I still have a hundred or so pages to go, I find myself with what is euphemistically called “a temporary cash flow issue.” So, I am doing without a few things that are not absolutely necessary. And, in my house, when it comes down to a choice between premium cable and premium cat food, Simon and Sandy outvote me two to one.

I figured, “How bad could it be?” I turned off the cable.

I know many authors who claim not even to own a television, or to watch it so rarely that they are completely unaware of what’s on. But when you start a discussion about the effective use of morally ambiguous characters, sexual tension or sparkling dialog, they will happily jump in with examples from Breaking Bad, Castle and Harry’s Law.

I admit it – I love television. I’m from the first generation whose mothers gratefully used the TV as a pacifier. I found an old, grainy picture of me, circa 1960, propped in a walker in front of one of those tiny-tube-in-a-huge-box models, with the only light in the room coming from the television and its reflection on my face. My rapt expression is just short of hypnosis. Maybe not short.

But, until the last year or so, it was something I watched when it was convenient. I would rather be out and about and, if that meant I missed an episode of my favorite show, so what? With a couple of exceptions, I could not have told you which show was on which night. Then, something happened. I started looking forward to Thursday so that I could see (my fiancé) Simon Baker on The Mentalist. I planned Sunday evenings around The Walking Dead.

I got a real wake-up call when a question on a consumer survey asked me how many hours a week I spent watching television, and I really sat down to figure it out. I had a hard time making myself check the accurate box, even knowing the anonymous results counters would not know who I was, or give a fig if they did.
So I felt kind of virtuous about turning off the cable. It would be good for me. I’d have more time to read. I’d have more time to write.

And, after a period of adjustment, it worked.

Not so much for the writing–the number of hours I write a day has never been influenced by television. If I’m on a roll, I don’t stop for Grey’s Anatomy. If I’m not on a roll, I’ll take any excuse, up to and including cleaning the cat box, to stop.

As for the reading…total success. I am working my way through the NINE novels I agreed to judge for the Rita Awards and have finally made it past the sixth installment of The Wheel of Time (I had to start over at the beginning to avoid confusion. I mean, just how many characters can one series have?).

I am apparently the last Urban Fantasy author in the world who had not read The Hunger Games, and now I know why everyone is so excited about the upcoming movie.

I throw out magazines AFTER actually reading them. That backed-up stack of my friends’ books that I haven’t had time for no longer seems like the impossible dream.

Once my advance check comes, will I turn the cable back on? Probably. Oh, who I am kidding—DEFINITELY. But I don’t plan on ever having to check that embarrassing box on the consumer surveys again!