So, I believe that I mentioned before I was reading an advance copy of James Dashner's The 13th Reality, the first book in the Journal of Curious Letters series. And now I've finished it. . . .
So for March, kiddies, look out for this book. It's a fun ride, full of riddles and some very exciting derring-do, including my personal dream: hoverbikes!
Why I call this post "my" 13th Reality, though, is because I have now joined the ranks of people I have always stared at, sometimes envied, but never truly understood.
People who have to leave home to find peace and quiet to write.
So, back before the Boy was born, obviously, silence was not a hot commodity at our house. I would work in the mornings, come home, and have hours to toodle around before my husband came home. I'd write, watch girlie movies and knit, whatever I wanted.
Then the Boy came.
I started having to wait until he napped to write, which sometimes didn't happen because he is not a good sleeper, even at the age of three. But eventually he does sleep, and we are lucky in that, at the age of three, he will still take a nap 4-5 times a week. Which is when I write, except when a) people call and I rush to answer because I didn't turn off the ringer, and then I end up chatting away my writing time, or b)I get distracted by something on the internet, or a book I'm reading, or I'm in the middle of cooking something or organizing something and by the time I'm done Boy is awake.
Lately this has been happening more and more, and I've been writing less and less. And I suddenly started to understand people like James Dashner, and Amy Finnegan, and other writer friends who go to libraries, or Barnes n Noble, or cabins, or hotels, to do some writing. What? I would scoff at them. Are you that fragile that you can't occasionally do a page or two while a toddler screamed and chased the dog in the background? (I have, in fact, often written when Boy was awake, simply tuning out the chatter and noise.)
But, without warning, I have become one of those people. As Boy's naps get shorter, I also find myself able to write less when he's awake, until I realized that we were reaching a point where one day I wouldn't be able to write at all.
So my husband sent me to Barnes n Noble.
And last Saturday, i sat in their cafe. And wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote, and listened to music that wasn't from the Curious George soundtrack and didn't teach me the alphabet.
It was amazing.
This week I went to the library, which was, amazingly, noisier and more distracting. But still I wrote and wrote.
And thus it has been decided that every Saturday I will go somewhere, and write. Saving my sanity and finishing my projects, one weekend at a time.
(ps-I call this "livin' large" because this strangely feels like the "big time." And also because last night when I got back from writing at the library I got a package in the mail containing three copies of Dragon Slippers, in LARGE PRINT. )