Writer down. I repeat, writer down.

I really want to be a professional writer. You know, the kind that write all day. Leisurely, creatively, purposefully, for money. What might a writer accomplish with hours of unimpeded writing time? I would not know, but I’m guessing she would crank out a lot of writing. Time is a writer’s very best friend.

I had a hint of such gloriousness when my second child went to kindergarten, over two years ago. I was used to sitting down at the computer and writing myself silly for about two hours until it was time to pick her up from preschool. But when she went to kindergarten, the gates of heavenly writing time opened before me, and I knew not what to do with myself. Oh, I wrote. I actually finished a book by the time she completed up kindergarten. (I will definitely be writing more about this book in future blog postings.) It was a short book, but suffice it to say, it was definitely a book. I patted myself on the back for finishing it, my second book ever. I saw what I could accomplish, if just given enough time.

But I just couldn’t be happy with a life of such ease. Oh no. I had to go and birth another (my third) child last year. And she is a doll baby; everyone loves her and she loves everyone (see photo for proof).  I would never for one second regret the having of her. She enriches my life, more than writing ever could. But (cue the sad piano music) oh, the writing time. Where did it go? Out with the placenta, I’m afraid. I try to sit at the computer when she naps, and if I’m lucky, she will nap twice a day, for an hour at a time. It’s just enough time for me to get the old brain in gear, perhaps write a good couple of pages, before I have to get up again. Sometimes it’s just easier to post on my blog! Aren’t you lucky?

And today, I have a dentist appointment. Friday, a dermatologist appointment. My precious writing time is done for. I tell myself that I could always write at night…yeah right!  I’m a mother of three! Owner of a border collie! Wife of one very busy lawyer! I’m exhausted at  night. I get very jealous when I’m zipping up the baby into her footie pajamas. I would like nothing more than for someone to zip some footie pajamas onto me, plunk me into bed, turn off the lights and turn on the noise machine. Good night nurse! Writing doesn’t hold a candle to sleep. Little does, in my opinion.

But I’m looking toward the future, my friends, toward the golden, glittering chunks of writing time. I have seen them; I know they exist.


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