I want to be a writer, I need to write, I’m determined to make it happen. I’m frustrated that I’m not doing it correctly. I’m not really doing it at all. My thought behind this blog was that I could document my journey, and work through my own learning curve, after all I do that best in writing. So here it is…I’m stuck.
Its one thing to set a new course in your life, it’s another to make it happen. Writing is the thing I keep finding myself gravitiating to, thinking about and talking about. In quiet moments I find myself either reading about how to write, perusing writing resources, making list of writing prompts, finding online writing courses. I created this blog and the twitter handle that goes along with it so that I had a way to find and interact with other writers. Its always on my mind and its something I refuse to give up on, however my environment is less than favorable for writing.
In my overly romanticized ideas about writing, I am sitting at my desk, looking out at a pretty view that actually does exist out of my window. I am able to sit for lengths of time, and focus, because my desk will be my place to work. In my minds eye i can see my cork board covered in inspirational quotes, and colorful pictures that ground me while I work. In reality I’m sitting on my bed typing this at an awkward angle, causing me to often miss keys and move my curser with the palm of my hand.
Due to life circumstances, I am a single mom, with an actual career. The kind I am (and should be) grateful to have, it isn’t at all creative, or even fun, but its important, valuable and it pays my bills. It starts early and its exhausting. We live in a small but rather nice apartment, and I am glad to be here, but living with two boys in a small space ends up being very distracting.
Right now I am listening to loud cartoons my younger son is watching , and my older son playing games online with his friend while on speaker phone, screaming directions at each other. That desk I mentioned is in the corner of my living rom, surrounded by all this chaos. My kitchen table is in the same room. I’m ignoring a pile of laundry, and I made them an awe inspiring breakfast of toast with chocolate milk, while I sip on a coffee and think about writing. This isn’t a time to focus and document fully formed thoughts..or is it? I have tried waiting until the end of the day, when they are in bed, which while quiet is a crap shoot. I’m more creative, but seriously running out of steam.
This is where I’m stuck, I need to work with what is my reality, and find a way to meet my personal goals. Many great authors have also had less than suitable living conditions, have also been raising children, have also worked jobs. I’m not interested in making excuses for not writing. I need to write. How are you all doing it? I would love to hear about your systems. For now I’m huddled over an awkwardly angled keyboard , sitting on my bed.