I know. I know.
Here’s my excuse. Excuses. Just listen, then you can humph and say that it’s all just excuses. I know it, anyway.
In the month of June, I worked over 300 hours, my beautiful golden-furry dog died at the age of fifteen, and I probably didn’t sleep more than a few hours a night the entire month. It was like that from mid-May to the end of June and I still only want to find that faithful creature and snuggle her, instead of write. She had been declining since she was sick last December. But it was still a shock on the day it happened.
But now. Now I have my evenings and nights free from work again (mostly), except when I’m my mother-in-law’s caregiver or I actually go to the gym, Mr. Sabine wants yummy intimacy, or the teenager needs me to be helicopter mom instead of resiliency-parenting mom. So today I edited three sites where my author bio appears to take out mention of our beloved family member, paid my RWA dues, and read the submission calls from Totally Bound for some upcoming anthologies. In summary, here’s why I’m not writing every day:
- worked out and took a shower
- had sexy-times WITH FOREPLAY and Mr. Sabine
- helped mother-in-law and am flexing work schedule
- spent time with teenager
- wrote a blog post, updated author bios, scanned Pinterest and am hunting through ArchitecturalDesigns.com instead of writing
That leaves… one night a week to write?
So what am I doing tonight?