Dionne Ford has a fine Literary Reflection at Literary Mama on finding time in a busy day to write:
I work on my novel. It was much more exciting when I started it seven years ago, before kids, before I knew what I know now. Time is precious. It takes me twenty minutes to recognize the words that I’ve written as mine, then another twenty minutes to lament the fact that these words aren’t mine anymore. I stare at the pictures on my inspiration board — a Buddha, a Billy Collins’ poem called the “Lanyard,” a picture of myself when I was paid to write. I want to cry. Twenty more minutes and I’m writing now from this new person’s mind — fragmented with just this bit of time to get something — anything — down at all.
Ford has two small children. I’d love to be able to tell her that it gets easier when the kids are teens. But it doesn’t.
Filed under: writing
