Time…

Not going to lie…as I write this I’m a wee bit depressed. My mom sent me a quote a few days ago and, well, it really got to me. It’s something John Irving (love him) said and it goes like this, “If you’re lucky enough to find the life you love, you have to find the courage to live it.” Wise words. Words I’m not really living up to. As you may or may not know, I have a day job. It was a job I used to enjoy, loved actually, but lately, it just doesn’t make me as happy as writing does.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if that’s true of all writers, but for me, for most of my adult life, it was always…ALWAYS…in the back of my mind that I wanted to write a book. In fact it caused me a bit of breakdown on my 34th birthday. I know I’ve told the story before, but it really did happen. I cried all day on that birthday and when my husband finally said, “What the hell is wrong with you?” I answered what was making me so sad. I hadn’t written my book. I’d gotten married, found a job, had children, bought a house, done a million other things, but the one thing that hovered and tormented me was the idea that I hadn’t written that DAMN BOOK.

So…my clever hubby told me to write it. And, by God, I did. I’ve been writing practically every day for nearly a decade now (yes, I’m THAT old). The desire to be a writer hasn’t eased up, hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s stronger today than it’s ever been. But whenI look at that quote, I realize…I’m not being courageous. My life hasn’t changed from my 34th birthday. I’m still working the day job, raising the kids, taking care of the same house. I’m still doing those million things every other working mother does. Yes, I’m writing and, maybe, I’m getting close to that point where I can actually believe I AM a writer, but…I haven’t quite made the leap yet. Haven’t found the courage to fully live that life.

Tonight that’s bringing me down. I’m a list-maker. Anyone else out there live and die by their to-do lists? I learned the habit from my mother and it’s deeply engrained. I’ve always had a writing to-do list and I work my ass off consistently to hit the self-appointed deadlines, to write the stories so that I can do that all-powerful and most magical of all actions…mark something OFF my list. Usually making the list energizes me, inspires me, gets me moving. Tonight…I realized the list is too long, too ambitious and, given my real life time-constraints, too unrealistic. And it’s killing me. Because I WANT to do all the things on that list. Desperately.

Cue the *Veruca from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory voice*

I WANT to write series books with my girlfriends, Lexxie, Jayne and Lila. I WANT to write a book for Entangled Publishing’s Brazen line. I WANT to try my hand at self-publishing. I WANT to write the other 5 books in the Second Chances series for Samhain and I WANT to write the erotic westerns for Ellora’s Cave. I WANT to do it all. And I WANT IT NOW! But…time won’t let me. I don’t have enough of it.

And the worst part about this blog post is that it won’t have a happy ending. I will wake up tomorrow when that alarm goes off at 5:45 a.m. and I will get ready and go to work. I’ll do my job. I’ll come home to a mountain of laundry and dinner to make and a house to clean.

But I’ll also sit down at my computer and put words on the page because that’s the life I love. And because I still have the hope that *one day* I’ll find that courage.