"Mom, you have any new stories?" One of the kids asked me that question sometime last week. I had to shake my head, sadly, and admit that I didn't have anything new for her to read. My dad asked two weeks ago how my writing was coming along. And to him, too, I had to say that I've been stalled.
It's not that I've got writer's block. In fact, just last week a story idea burst forth in my mind--something to do with neighborhood swingers, if you can believe that one--and I also worked on finishing up Daniel's point of view in my long-awaited (by whom?) Hunting for Lilacs. But finding the time to sit and write...as in finding even one uninterrupted hour of writing time, has been so difficult lately.
I'm not trying to sound whiny. I realize that if I were a published author and writing were my job, I'd be complaining that an agent could be found breathing down my neck. But my job would be to write. I'd be doing exactly what I love to do. And, I'd be getting paid for it. I'd be able to say to the laundry that it can wait, and I'd be able to justify why I didn't make it to the Bi-Monthly Coffee Meet-up with my friends. I've got work to do! I'd say. And I'd feel good about saying it. On the other hand, I'd have deadlines to meet. Right now, I've got zero of those, and I'm okay with that.
The writing life can be hard any way you look at it, I guess. I'm pretty sure I knew that when I signed up.
Write on, friends!