Really. Everything.

"Many writers have to teach in order to put bread on the table. But I have no doubt teaching sucks away the creative juices and slows production. 'Doomed proposition' is too strong, but it's hard, Jessica. Even when you have the time, it's hard to find the old N-R-G."
-Stephen King, interview in The Atlantic

One of the many things I admire about Stephen King is that he remembers what his life was like before he was successful, and he doesn't sugar coat it.

Making time for writing is hard.  It is so hard.  It is hardest when the weekend comes, and the teaching is "done" for two days, so it feels like life should open up a bit and give me room for writing, but it doesn't.  There is still so much, so much, so bloody awful much to do that by the time the doing is all done and the boy is asleep and the laptop is finally open, the old N-R-G is gone.

When I got my book contract, I was so happy - and I still am. Ecstatic. But I also sat down and looked hard at the pressing deadlines, and what they would mean when balanced against my teaching job and my son and the sundry daily responsibilities of being alive, and I wondered How on earth? My husband said, "I'll do everything. Don't worry. I'll make sure that you can write." And I admit that I thought, Really? Everything? 

Here are the things my husband did this weekend.
Grocery shoppingTook out the trash, recycling, and compostChanged the cat litterSwept the floorsFixed the broken bed frameWent to the hardware store for more planks to support the box springPut away every puzzle and toy in the house about five timesCleaned the dishesCleaned the kitchenDid the laundryBathed the boy
And here are the things I did this weekend:Revised 60 pages
I'd be dead in the water without him. It really would be a doomed proposition. But I'm lucky enough to have someone by my side who thinks that what I'm doing matters, and who is willing to do everything else so that I can have this chance.

Thank you, honey. I love you.