I feel stuck.
In my writing.
I finished a wonderful class two weeks ago and I’ve barely written since.
I met with my amazing and talented writing group this weekend, and had only written a one page response to our Prompt. (And yes, that was the writing I spoke about up there in the third sentence.) Its not as if I haven’t had ideas. I have a list of things to write. I have words and phrases running through my mind all day.
I could blame it on the lack of time. I could blame it on the sun, that’s rising early, that’s waking the daughter way, way too early. But it’s the sun that I welcome as I open my eyes at 5 in the morning. So much easier to get up, out of bed and write when the sun is up. But then the sun crosses through the house and into the daughters room and Poof! She’s up. Just when I start to talk myself into crawling out of bed, I hear her door open and watch her walk into our room. Sometimes she’s still half asleep. Or like today, she’s got a bounce in her step and can’t wait to start chatting. Either way, I know I’m not writing.
And so we cuddle. We chat. We watch Bubble Guppies. And then we get ready for our day. I drop her at Preschool. I go to work. I (try) to workout at lunch. Or I work through lunch. And then I pick her up from Preschool. We make dinner. We wait for Husband to get home and we eat dinner. Then we walk Dog. She showers. She brushes. She cuddles. We read. We cuddle. We chat. She sleeps.
And then it’s 830 pm and I’m shot.
So, when again should I write? A writer friend said it just takes 20 minutes. Twenty minutes here. Twenty minutes there. Do that three times and it’s an hour. Three more times and it’s two. I can do that. Can I do that?