I guess this is as good a time as any to start a blog, as I am taking a short break from writing my novel. Today is the second day of a new month, the last month of an old year. One day before my birthday. This is the year I decided to write a novel – despite all the odds.
I joined a writing group with incredible members who directed me to Scribophile. This is a writing and critiquing site where I learned that my story really is worth telling. The members are friendly and always willing to answer questions.
Writing is easy for the most part. For some, finding the time to write is difficult. I am a wife and mother. I work as a dental assistant. I volunteer at Church. There is always laundry and housework, meals to prepare, kids to care for, appointments to schedule, extended family to visit, bills to pay. I feel guilty when I’m not doing the tasks or spending time with the people that I know need my attention. I started an exercise routine earlier this year, but lately I’ve gotten sidetracked from exercise because I spend every spare moment on writing. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel bad. Like an addict seeks alcohol or drugs or porn to escape the troubles of everyday life, I find I turn to my characters, my novel when I don’t feel like dealing with financial problems, car troubles, issues with my kids. Or when I just want some time to myself.
Still I write. I just have to find the right balance, I tell myself. Perhaps that’s true. Perhaps I need to take a step back, take a deep breath, turn away from my novel. Just long enough to focus on some things that really need my attention.
This is a good time, I think to take a break from my novel. The story is finished. I even have the very last line written. But with regard to the polishing and editing, I’ve gotten stuck. I was upset and angry that I couldn’t get onto paper, what I knew was in me waiting to come out. Add to this the fact that lately I’ve felt like there are too many distractions around me. I love my family, but it seemed like every time I tried to edit my work, somebody needed something. The thought of getting away to a hotel for a weekend with just my laptop sounds very appealing, but I know I would feel guilty.
So I’m not working on my novel today. I won’t work on it tonight. Maybe I’ll work on it tomorrow. I haven’t decided yet. Writing is my passion. My love. I crave it. My novel needs me. My characters are waiting for me to bring them to life. I shall not disappoint.