The Writing Life (and this post could have a point)
I don't really talk about my personal life much. I don't think readers really want to know--they want their books, darn it, not reasons why they don't get them as fast as they want.
But what the heck. I'm tired and for some reason I feel like telling whoever is out there in cyberspace what my "typical" day is like.
I get up and run to get the kids up -- the first is out by 7 a.m. and she's the night owl. She just makes it. The early bird's bus is ALWAYS late. He has to wait until 8:30 today and his school starts at 8:45. In between buses I answer LI email and start on the day job.
My mother, who is sliding ungracefully into middle stage dementia (senility for the uninitiated) gets up in a foul mood -- I've learned she always does since it's been a while since coffee and meds. I remind her to TAKE her meds, which causes much grumbling and snarls, and head up to work because if I stay around there will be an unproductive argument. The DH is sick and grumpy that I dare to work at home when he wants to sleep. Jack hammers start outside--there is going to be roadwork done on our usually quiet street. Yay.
During the day I get calls saying my daughter doesn't want to use the special accomodations she has during testing for her attention and dyslexia issues. I find this after her testing and btw, do I want to talk to her teacher about the D she got. (She forgot to turn in her homework.) I take my mother to the bank where she doesn't really get what she has to do for her new accounts and everyone turns to me to explain it to her. Again.
I get the in home person who is trying to help me with the son's behavioral issues and we agree we're stumped and he's getting increasingly hostile. She leaves, I go back to work and the son returns. He's actually in a good mood although his school report is not so good.
The DH wakes up and gets pizza for everyone so no one has to cook.
Then I sit down to write because, well, besides everything else, I'm a writer. And even if I can only get a few words down each night, what writers have to do is write.
But what the heck. I'm tired and for some reason I feel like telling whoever is out there in cyberspace what my "typical" day is like.
I get up and run to get the kids up -- the first is out by 7 a.m. and she's the night owl. She just makes it. The early bird's bus is ALWAYS late. He has to wait until 8:30 today and his school starts at 8:45. In between buses I answer LI email and start on the day job.
My mother, who is sliding ungracefully into middle stage dementia (senility for the uninitiated) gets up in a foul mood -- I've learned she always does since it's been a while since coffee and meds. I remind her to TAKE her meds, which causes much grumbling and snarls, and head up to work because if I stay around there will be an unproductive argument. The DH is sick and grumpy that I dare to work at home when he wants to sleep. Jack hammers start outside--there is going to be roadwork done on our usually quiet street. Yay.
During the day I get calls saying my daughter doesn't want to use the special accomodations she has during testing for her attention and dyslexia issues. I find this after her testing and btw, do I want to talk to her teacher about the D she got. (She forgot to turn in her homework.) I take my mother to the bank where she doesn't really get what she has to do for her new accounts and everyone turns to me to explain it to her. Again.
I get the in home person who is trying to help me with the son's behavioral issues and we agree we're stumped and he's getting increasingly hostile. She leaves, I go back to work and the son returns. He's actually in a good mood although his school report is not so good.
The DH wakes up and gets pizza for everyone so no one has to cook.
Then I sit down to write because, well, besides everything else, I'm a writer. And even if I can only get a few words down each night, what writers have to do is write.
posted by treva at 3:35 PM
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