Where's My Super-Suit?
I’m not one of those people who claim that writing is my super-power. I’m pretty sure that ordering the perfect drink at Starbucks might be it for me (Doppio con Panna extra whip, dusted with cinnamon and half a packet of Sugar in the Raw), but that’s not exactly an achievement anymore is it?
Even if writing isn’t my superpower, that doesn’t mean I don’t need to wear my super suit when I’m writing. I totally do. And this is why.
I am not a full time writer.
I am a mother of three. A full time speech language pathologist. A wife. A sister. A critique group attender. A critique group leader. An author. And now, thanks to UncommonYa, a blogger.
People ask me how I do all of these things and still have time to work on my craft and actually write the books I care about. You know what? It’s not easy. So I take a little help from my superhero friends. I suit up. Just like football players and doctors and even judges, I put on my writing uniform and I get to work.
Do I work in a really cute writing office in my house? I do not. Think open-floor plan. Think a house-full of teenagers. Think televisions blaring sports events. I do not plug in or tune out. I write while life goes on around me, and I like it that way. I don’t need earbuds or headphones or even a writing soundtrack. I just need myself, my laptop, and my writing jeans. That’s right. I have writing jeans.
They change year by year, but one thing always remains the same, they are ridiculously soft and filled with holes. Since rips in your jeans are in style this year, I’m in style. But when they are out of style, I don’t care. I just know when I am wearing my ripped jeans I feel young and energetic and totally myself. And myself is an author of young adult books.
So when I want to get in the writing zone, when I need to crank out my daily quota of words, I reach into my closet and grab my jeans that are always, always clean and waiting for me. Even in the mess of my closet, I can find them. Like Batman’s Bat-suit, they call to me. Because they know that without them I’m just a person and not a superhero at all. Without them I can’t make myself focus on the job at hand. I can’t take the huddle, call the play, or throw the touchdown pass. I can’t save the city. And I definitely can’t entertain or connect with my readers. So, thank you, ripped jeans. Stay clean. Stay with me. Stay. I can’t do this without you.
Even if writing isn’t my superpower, that doesn’t mean I don’t need to wear my super suit when I’m writing. I totally do. And this is why.
I am not a full time writer.
I am a mother of three. A full time speech language pathologist. A wife. A sister. A critique group attender. A critique group leader. An author. And now, thanks to UncommonYa, a blogger.
People ask me how I do all of these things and still have time to work on my craft and actually write the books I care about. You know what? It’s not easy. So I take a little help from my superhero friends. I suit up. Just like football players and doctors and even judges, I put on my writing uniform and I get to work.
Do I work in a really cute writing office in my house? I do not. Think open-floor plan. Think a house-full of teenagers. Think televisions blaring sports events. I do not plug in or tune out. I write while life goes on around me, and I like it that way. I don’t need earbuds or headphones or even a writing soundtrack. I just need myself, my laptop, and my writing jeans. That’s right. I have writing jeans.
They change year by year, but one thing always remains the same, they are ridiculously soft and filled with holes. Since rips in your jeans are in style this year, I’m in style. But when they are out of style, I don’t care. I just know when I am wearing my ripped jeans I feel young and energetic and totally myself. And myself is an author of young adult books.
So when I want to get in the writing zone, when I need to crank out my daily quota of words, I reach into my closet and grab my jeans that are always, always clean and waiting for me. Even in the mess of my closet, I can find them. Like Batman’s Bat-suit, they call to me. Because they know that without them I’m just a person and not a superhero at all. Without them I can’t make myself focus on the job at hand. I can’t take the huddle, call the play, or throw the touchdown pass. I can’t save the city. And I definitely can’t entertain or connect with my readers. So, thank you, ripped jeans. Stay clean. Stay with me. Stay. I can’t do this without you.
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