It is your golden opportunity time. The children are in school, spouse at work and the dog is walked. It is your time to open up the laptop and begin working on that budding novel. You log in your password. Then you fix that warm cup of pumpkin spice coffee. You take two sips and sit into your writing chair. Oh yes, first things first you must open the email. What if you finally hear back from the agent you sent your last manuscript to? Your email is up with eleven new messages. Look, wow! There is a final clearance at ten different large chain department stores. What? Yes, it is free gift time at my favorite makeup counter. Wow! All these amazing offers, but too bad I’m broke. Oh, but once I get this second manuscript finished I will be rich. Rich I say! Yes, ahhh!! Oh, yeah, that’s very true; I got to find an agent first. Well, yes I did have that one agent that never sold a book. That really sucked. Damn look at the time. One hour is gone. Ok, focus, focus, lets write. Shit! I’m out of coffee. I’ll make one more cup. Then I’ll get back to writing. I’m a writer, of course I am. I mean I’m not published but sure one day I’ll be. F**k! I spilled my coffee all over these library books. Let me wipe this up.
Now, back in the writing chair. Where was I? Did I start on my blog, my second manuscript, the draft to the screenplay? Oh, yeah, that’s right. I haven’t even started. That’s ok. I got plenty of time. The phone rings.
“Hey what’s up?”
“Oh just sitting down to write. I’ve got lots to do.”
“Really, what are you writing?
“Not much, I’ve been busy.”
“Really, doing what?”
“You know just typical stuff.”
Ninety-four minutes of gossipy chatting about children, food, diets and bills.
“Can you hold on? My husband is calling on the other line.”
“Hey honey, it’s lunch time. Are you going to pick me up? I’m waiting.”
“Damn, I forgot. Ok, I’ll be there.” Hangup with hubby.
“Hey, I have to go. Sorry I forgot about meeting my husband for a lunch date. You know, got to invest in the old relationship. Talk to you later.”
Pulling the car up to husband. He is patiently waiting outside on the sidewalk. Drive to restaurant and wait fifteen minutes for table. Now sitting at the table waiting for our food.
“Honey, I’m sorry I was late I was so busy.”
“I know. You’re a busy writer. Did you get the first chapter touched up like you said?”
“What were you doing all morning?”
“Well, I don’t know. I had all these great aspirations, intentions, energy, but then I just got busy.”
“Doing what? You quit your job to write. You wanted to stay home to write and now you just stay home.”
“I know. I know. I don’t know what to say. How the hell am I going to make it as a writer if I can’t even get my ass in the chair and write?”
“We can’t keep living like this. We’re hardly making it.”
“I know. I guess I’m just going to have to invest in an office or a place where I can escape from reality and just write. If I want to be a writer, I need to write.”
“Where are you going after to take me to work?”
“Well, I have to go pickup the dry cleaning, buy groceries, put gas in the car and get the children from school.”
“Hey, since you’re going to be out; can you wash the car?”