It’s Day Two of my Writing Diet, and this new “hold myself accountable” thing, well, it’s WORKING… so far. I wrote words yesterday, and maybe they were crap words, but they were words. Today? More words. But most importantly, I’m teaching myself to prioritize. SO WHAT if there are dishes in the sink or beds to be made. There will always be (sadly) chores left undone, crystallized peanut butter spoons on the floor, and uber-tastically important emails to respond to about DINNER. I have to learn to let them go so that I can focus on the big picture. This is hard, but it’s necessary. A clean house or an organized life is nice, but it’s not as nice as finishing my novel.
Sounds so simple, right? Then why does it feel so difficult? Maybe because being a parent strips away a lot of your pride and sanity and opportunities for grooming and sleep, so it feels important to at least have clean clothes and a cozy place to curl up with a glass of wine for five seconds before you doze off at 9pm. Of course, the wine must be bought, the glass washed, and your child lulled to sleep with promises that tomorrow you’ll read Elmo’s potty book. Parenthood slaps you in the face with responsibility and dirty dishes like NOTHING ELSE. But here’s how I see it: If I can’t take a shower alone anymore, I should at least have cute socks. I mean, fair is fair.
A friend commented here yesterday by shooting over this link about a novelist-mother-lawyer who made time (much like my blogger friends Aidan and Jamie) for writing every morning from 5 to 6am. I’m not sure I’m capable of such a feat, but I do plan to write words for my novel EVERY DAY FOR THE NEXT SIXTY DAYS. I’ll let you know on Monday how I fared over the weekend, and what tactics I employed to get Leo fantastically interested in his play doh long enough for me to eke out a couple of pages. xox