Laundry Impedes Paperback Progress

Okay, the chickens and ducks and children who have to play baseball and go to scouts (only the children are playing baseball and going to scouts, the chickens and ducks aren’t old enough yet) are seriously impeding my progress. My husband’s new work schedule isn’t helping either…or my sinus infection. Sigh. My desk and desk chair have been overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of laundry we generate each day. Typically I keep laundry in a basket, and not for very long. I fold it, hang it up, put it away. Not this past week. I took to dumping it on the bed (except for the things that need to be hanged, they have gotten an unfair amount of attention considering the neglect shown to socks and skivvies and undershirts and such). The only problem was, by the time I actually got back to my room I was exhausted. So I tossed the laundry on the chair. Back to the bed the next day. Back to the chair. Back to the bed. Back to the chair AND the desk. But now I am tired of sifting through the pile to find matching socks for the children each morning. So. Today, after editing and football and finishing the articles for my internship, I will fold the blasted laundry. Even the socks. I HATE the socks.

Creative Laryngitis

The most difficult aspect of beginning to write again is admitting that you've lost your creative voice and accepting that you're going to have to write a lot of crap in order to get it back. There are days when I just shake my head and walk away from the computer and shut out all the voices in my head.

Who am I kidding? That I can write?

I ask myself these questions daily.

It's ridiculous, but I cling to my sister's high school speech teacher. When I was in 8th grade he read the beginning of one of my novels and was amazed by the strength of my written voice...

O, to be in 8th grade again!

I have never mourned my high school days, but when trying to play the part of a writer I do begin to long for those days with no responsibilities. All day could be spent reading and writing....

It is difficult as a wife and mother and student to find time for your imaginary world. It needs room to breathe, writers need room to daydream and wonder off in their thoughts.

Right now I am at school. As soon as I walked into the studio and flipped on the lights another student was behind me. And now more have followed. There is no solitude for my struggling voice this morning.

I'm beginning to miss my characters, having not written in two days now. Their voices and troubles are so strong in my thoughts. If that makes sense.

And again, I ask myself: Who am I kidding?

Indeed.