I'm feeling slightly discouraged today. Nothing huge, just the inevitable downswing that follows the initial euphoria.
Don't get me wrong, I am still feeling pretty dang good about having taken this huge step towards actually doing something with my life. Thinking about it, which I do all the time, makes me smile.
I suppose it's just me realizing that it's VERY HARD to try and start a novel with two very small children who require a ton of attention. Then there's the house that stays in a constant state of "wreck", which requires time to prevent said wreckiness from taking complete control. Oh, and my husband would probably like some small modicum of my attention as well.
These are things I've always been aware of, but the actuality of it sinks in more and more each day, when I want to sit down and lose myself in the world I'm creating, and it has to be put off for some reason or another. This is, I believe, the part in my own story where I buckle down. Which anyone who knows me will tell you, I am not good at things that require me to buckle down. That is usually the beginning of the end for me. I do not have a lot of self discipline, and unfortunately, acknowledging that fact doesn't really do anything to help. Which really seems rather unfair, I think. If I can admit I have a problem, shouldn't I get some sort of recompense? I mean,.....oh never mind what I mean. I'm a slacker way deep down, and while I have tried hard in the past few years, what I consider my actual "growing up", it's still a daily battle for me. And what self-discipline I do have goes towards raising my children so they aren't affected my the same laziness I have.
But do not lose faith, faithful readers! I am not going to walk away from this. I'm not going to put it aside and let it slip into the hazy gray underneath part of my mind, where all good ideas go to die. Well, not die really, they...sleep. And every once in a while they wake up enough to make me feel guilty for putting them there, until I lull them to sleep again. But not this time. Big words, right? Not really. Most of those other ideas were half-formed, mostly useless things to begin with, so letting them sleep isn't the biggest crime in the world. This however (my writing a book), has been a constant in my subconscious for as long as I can remember. And I'm not saying that lightly; literally as long as I can remember, my earliest years of childhood, I wanted to write. The entire time I swore I was going to be a teacher, artist, zoologist, I left it an unstated fact that somewhere in there would be a book, something written by me. To put that into the enforced coma-ward of my brain with my other sleeping dreams would be the worst crime I could commit to myself. The thought of me actually doing that kind of scares me. Well, to be completely honest, it really scares me. Because what would I be then? That would be like cutting the one thread I have left holding me to the future I've wanted my whole life. I would just float around, aimlessly, in some sort of strange purgatory. Ugh. Doesn't that sound pretty freaking scary to you?
Anyways, it's not going to happen that way. Maybe it's that same fear that drives me this time, or maybe I'm actually getting some semblance of self-discipline in my life. Maybe self0dscipline is mostly fear. I'm not really sure, being new to the whole realm of self-discipline. I'll have to sit down and think deep thoughts of how the two are related. After I write a few books. =)
So while it is tough to have to realize that I'll be sleeping less in an effort to get some real work time in (I adore sleep), I think that it's a given that something has to be given up in order to gain anything, and sleep isn't really the worst thing to lose.
Another thing that kind of bums me a little bit is that, in order to write well, to make it real to myself, I have to lose myself in that story, that world. And I can't do that now. Even when I do get the chance to write, I can't just tune out everything else. My kids need to be watched, the dishwasher needs to be emptied, and something has to be made for dinner. And in the three hour space between the kids going to sleep, and me falling asleep, I have to dedicate some of that time to my husband.
I wish it was possible to just dedicate a solid 4 hours of each day to writing. Time for me to really sink into it, learn all those small details about my character that make them so interesting.
If wishes were horses then beggar's would ride, and etc. So no pity party. Just a refreshed sense of commitment to my work, and (hopefully) willingness to lose in order to gain.
I'll leave you with this little bit of wisdom (*snicker*)