I actually wrote today. Amazing, isn't it? I know it's something one must naturally assume that an author does, but for me this has not been the norm. In the first place, it was August. That might not mean anything to anyone else, but believe me when I tell you that it is a very valid contributor to my state of non-writing. You see, I have these four children-ish people living in my house with me, and by the month of August they are like natives clamoring for their last hoorahs of summer. Between this and my own clamoring for we-must-get-this-house-put-back-together-before-we-all-return-to-school, there is already a limited amount of time.
Enter reason number two: Football. Have I mentioned that three of these young persons happen to be male, and that each of them has a major penchant for destroying the opposition? If I didn't love watching my boys hit and score so much (yes, I admit I'm that mother in the bleachers who has to jump to her feet and scream every time one of her babies takes someone out) I would probably rebel against what football does to my life. Three boys, three different age groups, three different football programs. All. We. Do. Is. Football. Games three to four days a week (including Saturday) and multiple practices on all remaining days but Sunday.
And the final contributing factor to my month of not writing is the absence of my husband who is currently working out of town, and is therefore unable to help me with anything. Bedtime, mornings, dinner, laundry, the running around of the children, etc. He is more than willing to help when he's around, but alas and alack, he is currently completely unavailable.
Really though, I think most writers are like me. No one is paying us to sit at the computer for multiple hours a day in the hopes that we will produce something wonderful. Instead we are struggling to cram a little writing time into the sandwich that is life with a family, job, and laundry. Sometimes it's really hard (like in August), but am I the only person who's noticed that when inspiration strikes it's like more hours magically appear on the clock? For instance, I started the sequel to Laryn Rising on February 15, 2012, and I finished it on May 5th. 2012. And that was after taking two weeks off to gear up for the ending (which terrified me to even think about, btw. Seriously, endings are just so much pressure!) That original draft was 220,000 words long (never fear, my initial writes are always WAYYY longer than the end product, and it's at least 50,000 words shorter now) which means that during that time I was writing an average of 2,785 words per day. How did I do that? I really can't say because that brief period of time is still like a hazy fog of staying up all night typing as furiously as possible. Even though I know I was working almost every day, the only thing I remember doing from February to May is sitting at my computer in my robe (because it was either really late at night or it was Saturday) shushing my children and begging them to please clean the house. And feed themselves. I think that was when my mother bought me the sign for my laundry room that reads "Laundry today, or naked tomorrow"...
So I guess I just need to buckle down and write until I hit that magical spot in my current project where it all starts coming together and inspiration isn't so hard to come by. I've written three books and it's happened all three times, so I know I'll get there - I just need to keep writing.
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