
I’m reading a book about creativity in motherhood. The author’s diligence and tenacity towards her writing craft makes me think about all the times I could sit down and write but don’t. The book makes me want to take my writing more seriously, make it a priority again. I think about adding it back in, maybe just a little.
I make grand plans and set my alarm for 5:00 A.M. I’ll get up before the kids get up and write for an hour. When the alarm goes off, I snooze it for ten minutes. When it goes off again, I stumble downstairs, pour myself a cup of coffee, and stare at my computer screen. I write one sentence. Then I shut my computer and go back to bed until 6:15 when my kids get up.
Soooo that didn’t work. Soooo I’m not a morning person. Soooo I’m not going to try that again.
But I still feel like I’m supposed to be writing more, so I decide to try writing during nap times. In small margins of borrowed time. That sort of works. Sort of will have to do.
I need an outlet to distract me right now. I’m living in another in-between time: no longer pregnant after two miscarriages but hoping to be pregnant again. It’s a stage of grief and moving on and hope and I don’t know what. Maybe writing again will bring healing? Maybe writing again will just give me something else to think about? I’m simultaneously trying to raise two little boys, thoroughly caught up in the throes of young motherhood, desperately needing this outlet.
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