I've finally realized that time will never present itself to me as a gift for being a good person. I have to serach out little bits and pieces of time to write. It's never easy. I thought it would get easier, but it hasn't.
Last month I attended the Missouri Writer's Guild Conference in St. Louis, and was charmed by Claire Cook, author of eight novels, including Must Love Dogs. She is a down-to-earth mother/writer who said she wrote her first novel in longhand during her daughter's swim practices while sitting in her minivan. I could relate, having graded many papers, and written a few scenes, during ice skating, guitar and piano lessons.
My friend Robin, a very smart and logical nurse, once told me that we all have the same 24 hours every day, and we get to choose how we will spend (at least some of) those hours. It’s a simple concept, but one that struck a chord. As a mother and a teacher and a wife, I still have to grade papers, fill out forms, do laundry, prepare/pick up dinner, make lunches, walk the dog, drive the kids to their appointments/sports activities, shop for groceries and empty the dishwasher.There are many other tasks I should be doing as well, but can live without doing every day, like mopping the kitchen floor or vacuuming the rest of the house, etc. I am willing to forgo those tasks for the sake of my art. I know it’s difficult, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I’m a saint.
Let me know, when do you find time to write?