Are you a writer? Then you’ve likely spent a lot of time reading about the real obstacles to getting published, marketing, and succeeding at selling many copies of your book. Hopefully, those articles provide lots of tips on how to get the job done. This isn’t that article. I’ve only got so much energy, I’m a writing Mommy.
Top Five Writing Obstacles For Parents
5 Your kid won’t take his nap – your premium writing time – unless you sing ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’ and bark at his door every time you hit the chorus.
4 Your kid wakes up from his nap, stands up in his crib, blows you a kiss, and hands you his poo. Poo which, artistic genius that he is, he has also smeared like paint all over the walls.
3 Your kid starts Kindergarten and learns how to use the computer. Your computer. Your delete button.
2 Your kid starts Grade One and learns how to use the iPad. Try writing the next Great Gatsby to Angry Birds being, well, Very Angry, in the background. Go ahead. Just try it.
1 Your kid decides he wants to be an architect when he grows up. You encourage that. He builds crazy fort tunnels from your office door to your office chair. Watch that back as you crawl to your office every morning!
At this rate, you’ll finish that book when your kid graduates from high school…Good luck!
When I said there were obstacles to sitting down to the computer to write, this wasn’t what I meant. But add it to the list!
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I’m writing a book. My first long work of fiction. I was supposed to keep that a secret. Oh well.
I’m at 19,500 words and I didn’t tell too many people ~ until now. Unless you count my Facebook Page, but with their wonky news feed that only hits 10 percent of my Likes, who knows who’s reading anything I post there?
Back to keeping it secret. How the heck is a writer ~ someone who tells stories for a living ~ supposed to keep quiet about the process of doing something they’ve always dreamed of doing, always felt a little intimidated to try, always felt they had in them? I can’t keep quiet about this!
I’ve read lots of advice along the lines of: Don’t tell anyone you’re writing a book. Not until you’re done. But what was I supposed to say I was doing at home all day these last few weeks? Dancing to Adam Levine’s Payphone while eating Swedish Berries? That would be truthful, but not the entire story. Everyone knows I spend my days dancing with a Swiffer down the stairs, freelance writing, and writing creative work. I can’t really hide from that. Or the Swiffer people, who keep begging me to shoot a commercial.
The book is a romantic comedy-drama, and I’m hoping it will be an enjoyable beach read for many. Yesterday, I was blushing as I wrote my first (tame) sex scene. I kept thinking: Oy. My parents are going to read this. But, I kept on writing. After all, they did have me. And my sister. I think they know just a little about the subject.
Today, Grandma (“Gram”) got a disco ball in her bedroom. I’m at summer camp, I tell you! I’m having the time of my life, growing with these characters and their experiences.
I’ve found some of my best plotting happens while in the shower. This works great, except that I become so lost in the story, I keep forgetting to shave my armpits. It’s pretty clear that by the time this novel’s done, I’ll have to move to France.
I’ve found some of my best plotting happens while in the shower. This works great, except that I become so lost in the story, I keep forgetting to shave my armpits. It’s pretty clear that by the time this novel’s done, I’ll have to move to France.
So, the secret’s out. I’m writing a book. Maybe I won’t finish it. I still have half way to go on the first draft, and I have all kinds of annoying inconveniences getting in the way of my writing. Paid magazine work. Photography work. Feeding my family. Geesh.
I’m betting I will realize this dream, since now I’ve told everyone I’m doing it, and I simply can’t stand quitting. Maybe it won’t get published; hopefully, some day, it will.
I’ll certainly share the journey with you, and all that I learn along the way.
Thanks for reading!
Eggs wrapped in ham (use an oiled muffin tin!): favourite go-to-dinner item for this author! Thankfully, our daughter loves it. She’ll be eating this often in the next few weeks, because Mommy’s writing a book!
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You’re creative. You can come up with 100 excuses why it’s not convenient to write.
The ‘y’ on your keyboard is missing. Jay Leno is on. Your cat named Jay Leno ate your keyboard.
The truth is, writing is damned inconvenient. It’s never convenient to have a plot or character bothering you when you’re supposed to be presenting Marketing for Morons to, well, morons, or explaining what that thing is between your nose and your upper lip to your eldest child while talking on the phone and making your youngest child a ham sandwich (ham and lettuce on the side).
It’s easy to find 100 excuses why it’s not convenient to write.
A writer finds 100 ways to fit writing into their inconvenient life.
Here’s a great excuse for not writing on Mother’s Day: My daughter wanted me to BE SuperMom. No, seriously, with a pink cape and everything. So I did, and had a blast with her in the backyard. Then I wrote about it.
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1 year old Marmie: You think it’s safe to go out there? That white stuff is truly gone?
15 year old Sam: Our person is in there, typing away all day on that warm flat silver device she won’t let us sit on. I don’t want to leave her side. She seems like she needs me. Especially when she stands up and screams.
12 year old Shadow: But it smells like those feathered creatures with wings out here. I gotta go gotta go gotta go oo boy!
Sam: She’s forgetting to open the big white cold beast to nourish herself. She’s only getting up from that chair and that warm flat silver device to feed us, and to feed these gerbera daisies (I heard her call them that. She loves naming her flowers out loud). No. I’m really worried about her. I won’t leave her side.
Marmie: She’s fine. She had enough energy to yell at me when I ate her swimsuit. She’s fine.
Shadow: You ate her swimsuit?
Marmie: Just the strings. They were so salty! Delish!
Sam: I’m going back inside. I heard her say she’s at 8,300 words, but she’s tired. She needs me.
Shadow: She’d better portray cats in a nice light in this novel. I’m sick of being portrayed as mindless creatures who lick themselves all day long. Hm. I wonder what these daisies taste like?
Marmie: Big furry beast with teeth on a leash! Run! Run! Run for your life!
Sam: Oh brother.
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8 Met someone who definitely wants to come to Herb’s Café for my reading Sat. April 20th. So much so, in fact, he took the 8×10 poster with him. Oops!
7 Two tweens bought Three Spaces. Poetry lives on in the younger generations!
6 Several children listened to me read for 15 minutes and I never saw them squirming or playing with the housewares stuff once!
5 Someone came up to me to ask if I worked there!, and when I said I was a visiting poet she said “Oh, wow, I love poetry!” (you don’t hear that too often)
4 Several dear friends, neighbours, and a dear old friend from my Harrowsmith magazine days (I hadn’t seen her in years!) visited and hung out with me a long time as I signed books etc.
3 One of my readers bought me a latte!
2 My daughter wore a very similar lace top, purple vest, and black leggings, because
she “Wanted to be just like” me.
and the #1 Moment…
Chapters put out decorations on the table and a beautiful pillow and wicker
chair for me. My 7-year-old daughter took one look and said,
“Hey, last year you just got the empty desk. Maybe you’re a little bit more
important than last year!” (Me: ha! But I certainly was comfortable!)
Thanks to the League of Canadian Poets and Chapters Pointe Claire for your wonderful support, and to everyone who came out for making the launch of Three Spaces such a success!
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Heather Grace Stewart 