The Right Writing Time

Writing has been mostly editing Helen lately.  My blogging has been (as you may have noticed), close to non existent.  

In the month of May, we've had exams, a graduation, a first communion, a confirmation and all of the ordinary parts of life, a dryer and an air conditioner dying plus a college age son coming home.  Carving out solo time at the computer has become a challenge during waking hours, which in my house range from 5:00 AM to 1 AM...and I've not become so desperate that I'm willing to set the alarm to get up during those four hours.  

In June (and yes it's two days old so...), we've had Tornado watches, warnings and I had to pay the bills and we hosted 7 college friends of our oldest who came over to eat pizza and play cards down in the basement. 

I had lots of valid excuses for the past two weeks of not writing...but a writer....writes.  A writer makes time to write.  At that point, I wondered, was I losing my gift of writing.  Did I not have the chops?   I understood the neurosis of a writer...if I'm not writing I should be...and when I sit down at the computer...ooh...look...Facebook....shiny. 

No. No.
I pulled up my book.  

Hey Mom, we're playing Magic. What's the sign for Vampire?"  I looked it up.  "What's the sign for explode?" "You have to spell it. It's a sound." Back to Helen.  Helen and Polyoxo having breakfast...research what is an ancient Greek breakfast...Wikipedia to the rescue...feta cheese --too modern, figs...but I've already indicated Helen hated figs....sometimes bread dipped in wine...symbolically cool. We have a winner.

"Hey Mom? What's for breakfast? We're hungry."  Seven toasted english muffins, two plates of raisin bread and the last of the frozen waffles later,  I need a diet coke.   Now.  Helen and Polyoxo talking.
"MOMMMM.  The Baby is STINKY!"  Up again.

Two diapers later, because the toddler saw the production and presented himself in line.   Back to Helen. The dishwasher needs unloading...no...no...I'm going to write.   I sit down. 

"Mom.  What time is it?" "I'm bored." "Can I go to my friend's house?" "Can I have leftover pizza?"
"10:04." "Go play." "Yes." "No."
Bored child and child that wanted to go to friend's and child thwarted on pizza now singing a loud happy chorus of "Kill the wabbit. Kill the wabbit." because "Flight of the Valkyries" has come on the radio. 

Brain is now leaving Greece and somewhere in between Wagner and Elmer Fudd. I'll come back to this scene later.   Grabbing my vitamins and a mocha fiber bar and washing it down with my soda for breakfast, my five year old comes over. She takes my hand.  "Come watch My Little Pony with me." Feeling the soft warmth of her hand, the book fades to the back...

This is how novels are not written.   May set phone to wake me up at 2 tonight.