Life likes to play dirty little tricks. Recently, it has been playing a little game I like to call, The Neverending To Do List. For three or four weeks I put utmost priority on being a Reading Mommy Writer. Yup, that's the official title.
It was wonderful. If my kids didn't need me I was either reading or writing. But there was a little problem. Moms don't just take care of their kids. They -
1. Fix meals
2. Balance checkbook and pay bills
4. Plan weekly dinner menues
5. Grocery Shop
6. Straighten the house
10. Make Beds
And this was the week that I finally felt the pressure of all I've been neglecting. But guess what? I WANT TO MASTER THE ART OF WRITING A NOVEL! And bygone, I'm going to.
I'm going to stop worring about my dirty bathroom floor. Because I guarentee my 8, 5, and 1 year old boys don't care. And the husband says as long as he can walk through a room without tripping he doesn't care.
I'm learning to prioritize what I want in this life. I really doubt at the end of my life I'll think, "Boy, I'm sure glad I scrubbed my house spotless instead of writing that stupid book."
Though it doesn't help that my book has gotten really hard to write, making the thought of cleaning the dirty bathroom floor sound so much more fun than forcing myself to add depth to my book.
But I've done it. I've written on average 500 words each day this week. Except for yesterday, when I called a psychic for book research. The whole time on the phone with her I just wanted to hear her mystical voice say, "Oh, you're an amazing writer! This book will be glorious. It won't be hard to write. You'll have it completed in six months, sign with the first top selling agent you query, and be a record bestseller!"
But she didn't. Nope. Instead, her answers to my questions have made my book that much harder to write.
That's another one of Life's games. It's called, A Twist.
Not sure I care much for that one either.