I am a writer – no, not because I just got paid to write (that happened a while ago) but because when I joined NaNoWriMo (nothing smoother? from writers, really?) I became suddenly extremely interested in cleaning, specifically all of the closets in my house. I have yet to tackle the junk drawer or the basement, but Martha Stewart herself would be proud of my linen closets (except I slacked and didn’t label everything – that may mean I am also still sane). Why? because I am supposed to be writing 1,600 plus words per day and I am not even close. Brutal, to even attempt it with a family, a part-time job and a modicum of a social life… plus I do like to sleep at least 8 hours and I am just not cutting it – the writing, the sleeping is going well, thanks.
Part of this is good for me because I have never even admitted I wanted to do this (write a novel) but I also am slightly risk averse and never want to fail at anything but here I am publicly announcing that I am writing a novel and now publicly failing to deliver. I should be ashamed but instead I am thrilled, thrilled that I was bold enough to try it and smart enough to know I am in the weeds and am not getting out any time soon.
I did write for a few hours on Sunday afternoon while the rest of the family was at the Boston College Women’s Soccer game and you may think I have all day during the week but it is surprising how much of my time is really taken up with household matters and not just the made up ones. Now I have to go…write? No, I could be doing that now, right? Nope, even better! I found a car kit that I need to put together first…Thank you, Martha!