For me, it's every spare minute. A line here. A few minutes before bed. Late into the evening when I have to work the next morning. A paragraph, a page. An idea hastily scribbled on the notepad beside my bed by the "light" that makes it through the blinds, hoping that I can read what I've written come morning but unwilling to get up or turn on the light. Even though hubby would probably sleep through it. He sure as hell doesn't wake up when he rolls over on me.
Wanna see my head explode? Stop me from writing and in a matter of days, brains and goo will splatter all over. Like a squashed beetle.
I HAVE to find time to write. Even though I work over fifty hours on an average week (more when it's grading time) and take grad school courses. Writing takes precedence over any other recreational activity. Though, sometimes writing is a bit of a chore when I can't figure out what to do with particular scene, besides drag out back and shoot it.
I am so envious of the people who read a book in a week. I'm lucky if I get through a book in a month. And I'm a quick reader. Though, I always have a dozen or so short stories read in the course of a month. And blogs... though reading blogs is kind of like cheating at baseball by using a wiffle bat. It's amusing, but it's not going to get me anywhere.
The only time I'm not writing is when I'm between projects or when I'm stuck, but not ready to admit that the idea needs to be euthanized for my own good.
I'd give up just about anything if I could have more time to write.
Except hubby. Y'know, I'm kind of fond of the guy.
- Novel Progress: Nearing completion of Edit #1, considering secondary beta-readers (70.5k, 36 chapters)
- Current Song: Favorite Game by the Cardigans