The other day she posted about writers who try to keep up a "writing schedule" with children in the house. She spoke of such mysteries as a "writing zone" and "mommy me-time".
I find that, with a 2-year-old and 4-year-old in the house, I'm often writing in the margins of life. For instance, they're currently in a post-Chuck E. Cheese-party coma right now. So, after putting in a load of laundry and loading the dishwasher, I have time to make a quick blog entry.
Or--after everyone's been fed, bathed, brushed, and put to bed--I might have time to do some work on Ruth. If I'm not too tired.
Some days I wish I could go to a writer's conference or even an 8-hour workshop in town. But I'm in a season of life where I can't get away for one reason or another. So it will have to wait. They're growing up fast.
For now I consider myself fortunate to have any time to write at all. It exercises my brain and brings me joy. And, when I start to feel a little sorry for myself, I am reminded that I've written 2 books in the last 4 years. Not published, not polished, but written. Then there are the few articles and winners in the FaithWriters challenges. Not too shabby for a busy mom.
I am writing. I am learning. I'm making notes. I'm building muscle. I'm laying foundation for whatever God has in store. I'm where He's called me to be.
So I'll publish this post, grab my laundry basket, and wait for the next bit of free time to open up.