The importance of having a life

Right now, I've got the lifestyle that most writers dream of. No job. No kids. There's hubby, and sure his health problems mean the burden of all the housework and cooking and stuff falls to me, but there's just the two of us and it's just a small three bedroom villa so really, no biggie.

So basically, I've got all the time in the world to write. I've even got time to do promotional stuff. I can set a target for the week and if I achieve it early I can either go onto other things or slack off and have time with friends and family. And yet, I still have too many ideas – funny that.

However, I've been feeling for the last few months like I'm falling into a bit of a rut. I can go for DAYS without leaving the house. The only interactions I have with the world are via the computer or the television. And it occurs to me the issues I've been having with the plotting of my novella are related to all of that.

The well is running dry.

I've been doing things like going to talks at the writer's centre, doing more crit groups and so on, but that isn't enough to make up for the fact that my life is dry and unchanging.

Then came the weekend just gone. Hubby and I had to scrimp and save, but we got time and finances in order to go down to country Victoria to attend a special little girl's second birthday, and to meet her brand new sister. Oh, and to see their parents, who are friends.

And I got to see things that I either haven't seen in ages or have never seen at all. We drove a new route, down country highways rather than the freeway, and I got to marvel over why small towns have all their hotels on the outskirts of town, and how did Wagga Wagga seem to become the headquarters for transportable home building, and why do they need all those trucks? (although question B probably answers question C).

And then at the lovely home of our lovely friends, we were entertained with the great combination that is country men, fire and petrol. And where else would I have seen one of them dash home and come back with his tractor to push the bonfire in so it would burn better?

And there's something incredibly restful and wonderful about a two-year-old obsessed with bubbles.

And sure enough – on the drive home, the answer to one of the dilemma's I'm having with the novella came into my head – devious, a bit shocking, very cool. And another contemporary romance is spawning to life, with scenes and backstory and plot coming into focus.

A bit of living, out of the house. New scenery, new experiences and the well fills and solutions to problems start to flow again.

So I guess what I'm saying is – there's a part of me a bit jealous of you folks with jobs and family. Cause while it's a pain in the arse to not have the time you want to write, there's also a whole lot of living that you're doing, and with it ideas and inspiration to keep that well topped up.

Note – I'm not so jealous that I'm gonna go have children :) But I have said in the past that I'm probably best suited with not working full time and having a small job so I've got something different in my life, and maybe I need to look at that again.