The past six months have been an excitingly exhausting time for me. I have been writing my entire life, but only the past two or so years have I really put myself out there to be read. After a lifetime of collecting stories, observing, reading, thinking, and talking, I’m finally channeling my need to write into a path towards a career as a writer.
Some wonderful people have given me opportunities to write more publicly, or have shared my work which led to my actually get paid for what I love to do, and the response has me both humbled and hopeful. I have so much in me: so many different stories, characters, personal experiences and contemplations, and they are all starting to see an escape path.
Which means they all want to come out at once.
I will be in the shower thinking how I want to tweak the ending of my novel, when the sound of my Clarisonic microdermabrasion brush will make a funny list come to mind that I need to write down right now because it’s making me laugh and must get on my blog as soon as possible.
I’ll be typing up that post in my blog, and I’ll remember that time my son pooped on the ceiling, which now I can’t resist writing about.
As I’m hashing through that, I edit out the part where I was terribly ill during my second pregnancy, and decide I really should make a quick guide for those who don’t know how sick is too sick when you’re pregnant.
Throughout all this, I’m raising two little kids who practically write material for me that begs to be shared in quick quips on Facebook and Twitter.
Now that I have opened the dam and people have come to watch, people have started inviting others to come watch, I simply can’t stop the flow. All types of prose are trying to escape my brain: the funny lists, the serious memoirs, the twisty life lessons, the fictional characters, the short creative stories, the lengthy novel…all of it both feeds me and drains me.
It is wonderful. I’ve waited so long for this.
Yet I need to find a way to rein it in. Not give it all away. Not let my head take over all of my time, because my family wants some of it, too.
The kitchen has yet to figure out how to clean itself.
The kids want their mom to build cool forts with them.
My husband would like to see me in a glow that isn’t coming from my laptop.
My brain is an overwhelmingly delicious pie filled with savory fruits. My problem is that I don’t know where to start, so I bounce from slice to slice, biting off bits at random with no rhyme or reason.
I just love it all so much. I’m so thankful that all of this is in me, is coming out so easily.
Yet, this abundance is almost too much. It is new and exciting, yet my mind never rests. Ever.
How do we find writing balance, when everything wants to come out at once? I don’t want to stop any of it, but there simply aren’t enough hours in the day (or personal assistants to handle to logistics of my life while I lock myself away in my office) to get everything done around here.
What’s a girl to do, when she has worlds swirling inside her brain, all vibrant with life and fighting for a spot in line to come out into the daylight, and a real, tangible life that she needs to actually live?
What’s gotta give?
Her dreams? Her days? Both are so valuable. Both deserve attention.
I just don’t know how to patiently eat this pie one slice at a time, and I fear I’m making a mess of myself...which is the last thing that someone at the start of her career should do.
What’s a girl to do?
Really – if I can’t add hours to my days, what am I supposed to do?
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