Fierce Peace
I passed 12,000+ words with my new maybe-novel (code name: CRIMSON). I have several complete chapters and a rough outline/chain of scenes for the first 1/3 of the book (maybe-book).
I've been at it for 8 days, which gives me an average of 1500 words a day. That's - well, for me, that's stellar.
It just keeps coming. It's all I want to do.
The downside, of course, is that all I want to do is write, but there are a lot of other things clamoring for my attention. Like, you know. Parenting.
Sad, but it really was easier when I wasn't writing. The lion's share of me was focused on the HIM, which served the status quo just fine. Now I scramble to work and end up resenting the HIM for his demands on my attention which, directly or indirectly, are a non-stop thing. A pathologically non-stop thing.
It makes me feel like a terrible person, to cringe when my son speaks to me. And I feel like crawling out of my skin. I feel like every moment is a fight. Because it is.
It's much more zen to NOT fight, but I can't pretend that not writing is good for me.
And that's the thing, really. It can't be all about the HIM. If I live all about the HIM, then I will die. Truly. I will die.
So I made a decision some weeks ago that, even if we are in this homeschooling thing for the long haul, I can't make it my only priority. There are things I HAVE to do for myself - like lose weight, meditate more, relax. And write. If I wait for THIS to be over, I'll wake up old and fat and stiff and spiritually wasted. And under-published.
So. This is the fight. To carve out a space for myself alongside the space for him. To change the status quo, so Mommy gets some consideration, too.
Hopefully, it won't have to stay a fight. Because really, this fight has been going on for years, now, and that's far too long. I'm tired - and my energy is far too precious to squander in battle.
I want peace. Fiercely. Fierce peace. That's what I need.
I've been at it for 8 days, which gives me an average of 1500 words a day. That's - well, for me, that's stellar.
It just keeps coming. It's all I want to do.
The downside, of course, is that all I want to do is write, but there are a lot of other things clamoring for my attention. Like, you know. Parenting.
Sad, but it really was easier when I wasn't writing. The lion's share of me was focused on the HIM, which served the status quo just fine. Now I scramble to work and end up resenting the HIM for his demands on my attention which, directly or indirectly, are a non-stop thing. A pathologically non-stop thing.
It makes me feel like a terrible person, to cringe when my son speaks to me. And I feel like crawling out of my skin. I feel like every moment is a fight. Because it is.
It's much more zen to NOT fight, but I can't pretend that not writing is good for me.
And that's the thing, really. It can't be all about the HIM. If I live all about the HIM, then I will die. Truly. I will die.
So I made a decision some weeks ago that, even if we are in this homeschooling thing for the long haul, I can't make it my only priority. There are things I HAVE to do for myself - like lose weight, meditate more, relax. And write. If I wait for THIS to be over, I'll wake up old and fat and stiff and spiritually wasted. And under-published.
So. This is the fight. To carve out a space for myself alongside the space for him. To change the status quo, so Mommy gets some consideration, too.
Hopefully, it won't have to stay a fight. Because really, this fight has been going on for years, now, and that's far too long. I'm tired - and my energy is far too precious to squander in battle.
I want peace. Fiercely. Fierce peace. That's what I need.