ahhh. I am finally getting my work done. I got so frustrated last weekend when I had an opportunity to join a friend to write and stayed home with the intention of cuddling with my husband and nursing my cold. But nope–he had to work. So there I was, sort of stranded, sniffling and feeling…bleah.
I wasn’t frustrated that he had to work, I was frustrated with MYSELF, for consistently prioritizing my writing BEFORE so many other things. Of course, in the big picture my marriage and my husband are the most important things in my life, but why make writing such a distant second? I can spend an afternoon writing without causing harm to my relationship for sure.
This weekend, I’m getting my writing done. Thanks to my buddy who is on a disciplined roll, I’ve got a role model. Sometimes, even though writing is a solitary act and I definitely have the unfading desire to write, my writer friends are what keep my momentum up.
I felt so good yesterday when I emerged with a few more good pages written, instead of sitting at home, worrying about my novel and trying to bide my time while waiting for my husband. Today, he’s going to have to work again–but guess what: I’m going to go somewhere to write.
Yes, I know these are elemental things. Of COURSE I’m supposed to write, of COURSE I’m supposed to negotiate the space for it. And it’s hard to set aside our relationships to focus on the words. Easier said than done, I say!
I cannot even imagine how mothers get to writing. How do you do it? I admire you for that resolve. I feel guilty when I tell my grown up husband that “I have to write,” when he wants to spend time with me!