I used to love being a writer. And well, I still do for the most part, except for being a writer has become the biggest pain in the ass of my life. How so? You ask.
Hmm, where do I begin...
1. The the heartless muse waking me up at all hours of the night, especially when I've been sleep deprived and in great NEED to sleep. This didn't really bother me before baby (BB), but now it only fuels the unrelenting insanity. BB, I could get up write my new brilliant idea, plot point, dialogue, scene, whatever and go right back to bed or take a nap when I got home from work later that day. Now? The moment I go back to sleep someone decides to wake up and want some water, a hug, or go potty. Nap after work is a relic of antiquity these days.
2. The never-ending compulsion to write. It's in my blood and ingrained in my DNA. I. CANNOT. NOT. WRITE. I've tried and about lost my mind. It doesn't care that I'm a sleep-deprived mother who works 40-hours a week at a day job, has a family to care for, and maybe a life outside of the sparkly world in my head. No, the compulsion has no sympathy nor a single gram of courtesy for my mental health. NOPE.
3. The stories keep coming. As I try to finish (prepare for publishing) a story, twenty more come flooding in to distract me from completing the current project. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay on track when you have a busy toddler, a family, a career, and two dozen other characters wanting their story to be told? Thank the medicine gods for Zoloft. And Ambien. And wine- my best friend.
4. There is never enough time. Because of reasons 1-3, I never seem to find enough time to satisfy all the musings of my hyperactive brain. Never enough time to spend with family and friends while maintaining a decent prolific rate. The writing monster wants ALL of my time and finding a balance has proven to be harder than flying a kite to the moon. Can't keep up...
5. Living on the borderline of nut-jobbery. All though some of my friends and family may think I have crossed the line into la-la land long ago, trying to maintain a socially acceptable appearance of sanity is not one of my strengths. When I attended my very first writer conference I saw a quote on the wall that said something like this "Writing is a socially-acceptable form of schizophrenia." BB, I laughed. Now I see whoever wrote that wasn't kidding. Writers live in their own universe(s). Period.
Writing creates all kinds of madness and chaos in the writer's life, but it also opens worlds, sagas, mysteries, romances, adventures, and yes, universes that those who are not writers (and have sane lives) can only dream of experiencing. All that happening in one single brain at 2 o'clock in the morning, right before offspring decides to upchuck all the gastric contents from dinner the previous day.