I’ve mentioned before that I don’t get a lot of actual writing time. Currently, it’s two hours in the afternoons when both my children attend school. Sadly, I always seem to hit my groove thirty minutes before I have to pick up the kiddos (I’ve fantasized about escaping to a cabin or luxurious hotel room so I can write for days at a time – what can I say – I dream big). But even though I’m not always typing at a computer, I’m working.
I love stories and surround myself with them. I try to read novels often, though this time goes down the more I write (and why it took me weeks to finish The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo; the first book I’ve read in months. I loved it and can’t wait to read the next two). I enjoy a wide variety of TV shows ranging from 30 Rock (how do they come up with that dialog) to White Collar (amazingly fun USA show – comes back in June) to True Blood (teeth, fur, fairies – what’s not to love). I love movies; though I don’t often get to them (I just saw Rio – good, clean fun and the kids loved it). And when I’m not writing, reading, or watching something, I’m usually telling myself stories. I’ve been doing that all my life.
This week, between spring break from school and painting bedrooms (my spring break project), not a lot of actual writing has happened (or will it happen next week). So I don’t have much to report on there. But even when I’m not increasing page count, my mind is always whirring. Ever since I started my novel, a different hatch has opened in my brain. Ideas trickle out at odd times (I have a document where I keep a running list – some are very silly), I read well crafted sentences multiple times to figure out what makes them great, I analyze sitcom storytelling to see if there are techniques I can steal. I’m always looking for inspiration. At Easter service, I started making up back stories for all the church members (I’m not an ideal church goer – my mind wanders – a lot). I guess I’m trying to say something has fundamentally changed about the way I think and look at the world. I pay attention to strangers’ conversations in coffee shops, I study the clouds racing past, I close my eyes to smell the rain. And then I try to write it all down (or at least think about how I would write it all down – there’s that time constraint I mentioned).
The ideas and thoughts come faster too. So fast, I can’t keep up with them. For example, when I started this blog, I worried I wouldn’t have much to say. Instead, I’m starting the next blog as soon as I finish the current one. To resolve this issue, after spring break I will start writing after the kids are in bed. Post-bedtime remains a favorite time of day for me. The kitchen is clean, my to do list is done, no one needs food or a lost toy, everything stills; everything, except my mind. With my characters prowling and clamoring for their story, I predict many sleepless nights. Thank God for coffee.
I guess, dear reader, what I’m trying to say is that while my page count hasn’t gone anywhere I’m still working. I’ve amassed several ideas for the novel, scribbled into my tiny notebook I carry with me. I’ve worked out problems, and scheduled my writing time. Now, when do the kids go back to school?
