Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Good Morning

After yesterday's blog post several concerned friends contacted me, offering air mattresses so I could sleep downstairs in my home or guest beds so I could sleep in air conditioning in theirs. They all said the same thing, "Why didn't you tell me you needed help?"

Dunno. It's better now--the repairman got one of two upstairs units functioning yesterday, which was enough to make sleeping a happy experience.

I'm not always good at asking for help when I need it. It doesn't occur to me. I'm not sure why.

Lately I've been working on my novel revision. I love revision. I have a deadline, and it's pretty tight given what else I have planned for the next few months, so I'm in full compromise mode now, which means I just walked away from a mess in my kitchen and a whacking great pile of unfolded laundry to sit here at my computer. (I'll move quickly from this post to the revision.)

When I talk to other writers I notice a big difference between fathers who write at home and mothers who write at home. I'm not sure why this is, but mostly the dads seem to have some sort of regular hours, as in, paid babysitting much of the day, and the moms seem to stuff writing around all the other things they do. I prefer my way, honestly--I love the freedom to arrange my schedule to suit me, and I've loved being able to be the primary caretaker to my children. What writing really takes is the commitment to write, and that can happen a lot of different ways. When my husband was a medical resident and our son an infant, my husband and I both woke at 5 am every morning. My husband went to work, and I made myself a pot of coffee,  and went to work, too. When my son woke, around 7:30, he and I had breakfast together. I got a lot done in those early mornings. Gotta run now--I'm set on getting a lot done this morning, too.