As a working mother, free time is a bit of fable. We know it exists, but where? How? Who? And does it involve bathroom breaks? What little free time I can scrounge up, I tend to spend at my laptop writing, or buried in a book.
This past weekend was my birthday. I ended up with my family home, willing to do whatever I wanted to do. Great! But then the guilt starts, because what I wanted to do was simple:
3) Repeat above as often as possible
All I could think: how sad? Family time is rare these days. I should want to go out and do something with them. I had a gift card to spend at a store. But lounging in my pajamas, with my laptop, trumped.
So, I wrote. I had some notes from a CP (critique partner). I addressed them. With a clear head I made a little magic. I worked on my WIP (work in process).
Then I read. And read. And read. To be fair I did so while curled up with my family. I wasn’t completely ignoring them.
This is a problem I often run into. Time is fleeting. I love writing. I love reading. Even when I have ample time to do both, I want to do more. I’ve set up weekly date nights with my husband. Not for him, for me. So I have a set night where I force myself away from words and do something as a couple.
I often wonder if things would be different if writing was my full-time job. I suppose on one level it would be, as I could put in a solid set of hours while the rest of the family was off at work or school. On the other hand, I may still always want to do more. And on the final hand (those extra hands come in very handy, pun intended), very few authors ever get the chance to support themselves with their words. So all this is merely a dream.
Like this post. I have my WIP to get back to, and a book I’m itching to do more reading in. Family has just left and my husband is watching TV. I’ve got about a half hour before my brain shuts off for the night.
I want to write. I want to read. And there’s this guy watching TV that I kinda like. Yet I’m here, working on this blog. Enjoying writing it, but with so many other projects/commitments in the back of my head I feel torn. Tired.
And I really want to read…