Behind Because…

I haven’t been writing much this week, as real life has intruded.  My son is on the mend, thanks to Divine Providence and excellent medical care, but has been quite sick.  So for those of you anxious to hear that I’ve finished my stand alone novel and begun (finally) working on The Black Prince…I’m sorry to disappoint you!  But, as difficult as some might find this to credit, despite my spending my days writing about cannibalism and the dark arts, being a mom is my A-1 calling.

My “real” life is, I’m thankful to say, completely dull.  I spend a lot of time scratch-baking chocolate chip cookies and taking my son (and his friends) to offensively wholesome events.  I coach.  I shop at Downeast Basics.  The most alt thing I have in my wardrobe is a pair of rhinestone cowgirl boots.  Yes, I am from the Southwest.

Writing (much like losing weight) is an endurance sport.  Someone recently commented that writing for a living “must be relaxing” and, truthfully, it’s not–even when one’s children aren’t sick.  Being in business for oneself, whether writing or running a hardware store, isn’t easy.  Because there’s no one to turn to for help when things go wrong and, conversely, you usually have quite a few people depending on you.  Freedom is a wonderful thing but in no ways free.  In any sense of the term.  The freedom to do what you want every day can also, if you’re not careful, be the freedom to tank your career.  Or as I did when I myself was so sick a few years ago, lie around while bedridden reading true crime and noshing on junk.  And, subsequently, my “freedom” led to my gaining a hundred pounds.  Fifty of which I’ve now lost.

Now that my son is on the mend, I hope to get back to work in earnest on Monday.