So I sit in the Boise airport, where the floor vibrates with every passing plane, and contemplate all the new things that are happening. First, and the reason you are being subjected to my ramblings, is that I somehow got picked up by some awesome ladies that wanted me to play in their sandbox. Now, I have the lucky task of explaining the bumps in the road the comes with being a writer and a mom.
The second newness is that I even consider myself a writer (for real, like) and actually kinda-sorta believe I belong in the ranks of “real” writers. I sit, looking around at the other waiting passengers and am stunned that there are so many people reading rather than talking on the phone like they do in CA. It makes me excited to see the readers and have a secret thrill that maybe someday I will see one of my own titles in the MUST READ racks in the airport—if for no other reason than I would be making some sort of living at what I dedicate a crazy amount of time to.
I write Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy. Only with the limitless support of my loyal reader and good friend, Sarah, would I have pushed myself last year to move past a project that I was married to and attempt three new books, two of which I am keeping my fingers crossed in the Golden Heart writing contest. Join me in jittery anticipation, won’t you?
The biggest newness is that I achieve the rank that this pack of writers have already realized. Later this year, I will become a mother for the first time. Now, I’m a late bloomer to the whole motherhood thing, but what I have noticed is that, so far, pregnancy with all the fear, paranoia and anticipation, has caused my creative knackers to go on vacation. Sure, I had all the incredible pregnancy dreams, a few that even led to story ideas, but have I written anything? I’ve made attempts. I’ve outlined a new story. I’ve hemmed and hawed over paragraphs, perspectives, and locations. I’ve tossed around follow-ups to stories I’ve written. I’ve contemplated research for said stories.
What have I really done? Surfed the web regarding the size and shape of my growing baby. Found out from those websites what I was to expect from my body. I have fought morning sickness, fatigue, and a sort of crankiness that would have otherwise had me incarcerated (we won’t discuss the two times at Christmas I almost divorced my husband for not being nice to a raving lunatic).
I have been reassured by my cheerleading squad that, having written four manuscripts last year and being newly pregnant, I was entitled to have a break in maintaining my writing zeal. But see, the conundrum is that telling a pregnant woman not to worry is sort of like asking a wall for advice about your marriage. Of course I worry. I worry because I read stupid blogs by great, amazing writers that say junk like, “I write every day, no matter what.” Then I pull out my whip for a good dose of self-flagellation. I have been told that the distraction I feel now is nothing compared to what happens with a new baby and frankly, you might as well push me right over the Cliffs of Insanity... Oh wait. Already did that... Okay. The Canyon of Freak-the-H-Out. If I don’t write, then I’ll loose my muse and then I won’t ever, ever write again, right? Or, I’ll decide that I have managed to write books. Okay, books, if nothing else, and now I can move onto my next thing (see the filmmaking, jewelry making, quilting, and cooking that went before—though I still cook, ‘cause a girl’s gotta eat). I panic because I don’t really want to give up on writing like I have all those things before. I enjoy writing. I just wonder if this “new” distraction is gonna be the mother of all distractions—oh, poo! That’s a bad pun. Sorry.
Ultimately, there is no real choice. I don’t anticipate giving up writing because of my need for it. I’m obviously not going to give up my child for the sake of writing. My only option is to muddle through, as best I can. With role models like the women that have invited me into their clan and the support of those around me, I might just be able to juggle this, work and all.Like my husband keeps reminding me about our impending parenthood—it’ll be an adventure. Are you up for an adventure?