Making time to write.
Time, time, it’s not driven by a winged chariot; it races by bumpy, more like I’m on a mountain road in a car with low suspension. Days sweep by, weeks turn into months with hardly a blink. Life rolls on inexorable and I want to write.
The key is, I want, and I am not ashamed to say I want. Finding time to write is possibly one of the most frustrating things an author can feel. Ideas are bouncing around your head like crazy and there is only time to jot them down as notes, to add one or two key words, before a meeting about something, or an appointment, or the phone rings, or any one of a million other things that claw writing time from you like a hungry tigress. Time is precious and if the tigress eats it the author never gets it back.
In the past I have wept about this. I have yelled to the kitchen ceiling, “It’s not fair!” Strangely that made not a jot of difference. Now, however, I am fighting back. I will have my hours and if anyone barring extremis should interupt them they will feel my wrath.
I’ve no idea if this new plan will work, but I will let you know. Thanks for reading.
Look up to the top bar. C My Books. Click on it!
I’m going to be adding some new artwork there soon. You don’t want to miss it.