I can totally relate to this post. Well, not entirely, but definitely when it comes to loved ones understanding the drive and amount of time to write.
I recall one occasion where my husband and I were supposed go out for dinner. I asked for 30-45 minutes to finish up. After a couple hours, I was still working. Hubby was not only hungry enough to each a bear, but highly ticked off at me. because I was still sitting in front of my laptop with hair looking like a bird’s nest.
I was in the flow of my characters and the storyline and didn’t want to stop for fear that I’d lose my groove. After a brief heated exchange, he ordered a pizza for us, and agreed to go into another room to allow me to continue writing. Unfortunately, I had lost my zeal and had to put it down anyway. 😦
Last Friday, while packing up the kids, dog, and husband for a weekend getaway, I phoned my mom and dad to see how they were doing on their trip to my sister’s house. What started as an innocuous conversation turned out to be a near hang-up on my part. And it started with a simple question my mom asked:
“So when are you going to finish this book?”
That was not the time to ask me about the book. I’d just come back from ten amazing days in England and was still jet-lagged, yet was so inspired and ready to do war with the problems I’d been facing in my story (and had been ignoring for no other reason than a sense of apathy that I’d never be able to solve them). However, on my return, I was absolutely barraged by normal family demands, which resulted in almost zero time…
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