I think I'm going to be sick
I'm feeling a bit queasy. It might be because the economy is in the shitter, I could lose my job at any minute, or the fact that hey, life with 2 kids is harder than I imagined. Or maybe it is because I haven't written a word of fiction in 3 months.
People ask me all the time how I find time to do everything. Work, clean house, parent, work more, write. And my standard answer is/was NOT sleep. It's true, I'd go to be later. I'd give up naps. I'd write until a few hours before I'd join a conference call with someone overseas. I gave up every free sleeping moment to write. At least before my daughter became the clingy 16-month-old that she is. Oh, and one that won't sleep a wink without me by her side. Thus, my sleeping time has increased--which overall is probably a good thing.
However, it also means the worst. Writing is NOT happening. And it does have me more than a bit sick to my stomach. Because when I used to be able to make up that time over "writing lunches," or 15 minute breaks throughout my day--well, those just aren't possible anymore. My day job has me running--literally--all day long. My daughter is tied to my hip. And my son is keeping me on my toes. I'm basically stretched more over my limit than I ever have been. But not doing what I love. Which means, I am re-evaluating life yet again. Goals. All the crap that sounds like I watch Oprah too much and actually take inspirational books to heart. But yet, it's all I can do to continue to write. Otherwise, I'll be sick to my stomach.
People ask me all the time how I find time to do everything. Work, clean house, parent, work more, write. And my standard answer is/was NOT sleep. It's true, I'd go to be later. I'd give up naps. I'd write until a few hours before I'd join a conference call with someone overseas. I gave up every free sleeping moment to write. At least before my daughter became the clingy 16-month-old that she is. Oh, and one that won't sleep a wink without me by her side. Thus, my sleeping time has increased--which overall is probably a good thing.
However, it also means the worst. Writing is NOT happening. And it does have me more than a bit sick to my stomach. Because when I used to be able to make up that time over "writing lunches," or 15 minute breaks throughout my day--well, those just aren't possible anymore. My day job has me running--literally--all day long. My daughter is tied to my hip. And my son is keeping me on my toes. I'm basically stretched more over my limit than I ever have been. But not doing what I love. Which means, I am re-evaluating life yet again. Goals. All the crap that sounds like I watch Oprah too much and actually take inspirational books to heart. But yet, it's all I can do to continue to write. Otherwise, I'll be sick to my stomach.
Labels: life, me, writing, writing life
