Where in the world?
Somewhere in my life right now, I am desperately trying to fit in writing. Not work writing crap, real writing. The stuff that makes me tingle and sweat and keeps me up at night because I can't get the ideas to stop. That writing.
Between caring and keeping my family sane, my day job, drinking more water, eating less red meat, cleaning, laundry, dishes, picking up toys again and again and again--as well as showering and all that cleansing stuff--there isn't but a whole 5 minutes left. Even when I use my grand plans of using 10 minutes of down time wisely (nice thought, but when barely have time to go to the bathroom, you take the necessity over the nicety).
So here I finally sit at close to midnight, just NOW getting a free moment--staring at a cursor. And a blog that hasn't been updated in about 20 days. And a master bedroom that is overflowing with laundry. A sink full of dishes and toys piling at my feet.
It's amazing. My muse sometimes will flutter around in my head when I am the busiest of busiest. Whispering sweet story ideas, plots, and characters into my left ear. And it floats around in my head until I can find any moment to get it down onto paper (virtual or not). But lately? The must has run off for greener pastures. My life seems to full for her and she's a bit pissed off. The better part of myself agrees and is ready to do the same. Especially when a reprieve is nothing more than a pipe dream at the moment.
But, I've decided to hell with it all. I submitted non-fiction work to a publisher. And I'm even going to bust my ass to submit a small piece to a local contest. If I get picked up by a publisher my life will turn into even more chaos and I'll scold myself continuously, but damn. Kill me or not, I can't let this dream die. My soul might just go with it. So, I'm off to write. Even if for a an hour tonight. Or 10 minutes tomorrow. I'm entering the damn contest too. Because it's my dream, and I'm the only one that can make it happen.
Between caring and keeping my family sane, my day job, drinking more water, eating less red meat, cleaning, laundry, dishes, picking up toys again and again and again--as well as showering and all that cleansing stuff--there isn't but a whole 5 minutes left. Even when I use my grand plans of using 10 minutes of down time wisely (nice thought, but when barely have time to go to the bathroom, you take the necessity over the nicety).
So here I finally sit at close to midnight, just NOW getting a free moment--staring at a cursor. And a blog that hasn't been updated in about 20 days. And a master bedroom that is overflowing with laundry. A sink full of dishes and toys piling at my feet.
It's amazing. My muse sometimes will flutter around in my head when I am the busiest of busiest. Whispering sweet story ideas, plots, and characters into my left ear. And it floats around in my head until I can find any moment to get it down onto paper (virtual or not). But lately? The must has run off for greener pastures. My life seems to full for her and she's a bit pissed off. The better part of myself agrees and is ready to do the same. Especially when a reprieve is nothing more than a pipe dream at the moment.
But, I've decided to hell with it all. I submitted non-fiction work to a publisher. And I'm even going to bust my ass to submit a small piece to a local contest. If I get picked up by a publisher my life will turn into even more chaos and I'll scold myself continuously, but damn. Kill me or not, I can't let this dream die. My soul might just go with it. So, I'm off to write. Even if for a an hour tonight. Or 10 minutes tomorrow. I'm entering the damn contest too. Because it's my dream, and I'm the only one that can make it happen.
Labels: me, parentling, working, writer's block, writing, writing life
