There is always some part of me that wants life to leave me the h*ll alone, so I can write. I think that if I had all the time in the world, every moment will be spent doing what I really love to do. But the funny thing is, when I finally get the opportunity to write, and I feel as if I have nothing but time, guess what? I do nothing. Writing in the midst of distractions helps me appreciate and enjoy those precious moments that come alone, when I am able to pound the keyboard. When I am busy and unable to write, I miss my characters; I think about them, even dream about them. And finally, when I am able to sit down with them, I feel like a chocoholic whose just been given the key to the city of Hershey, Pa.
But the funny thing is, no matter what, I still wish that I had all the time in the world. I always think that next time will be different. That I will work from sun up to sun down, when I do get that day of solace and I have nothing to do but think and write. But guess what? It never happens. I just create more distractions; surf the internet a little, watch a little televison, get a little reading, oh, and write a sentence or two.
So I say give me my distractions, the kids, the husband, the phones calls from friends who constantly ignore my plea of "Call me back later, because I am trying to write." Because when I finally do sit down to write, I will more than likely write several pages, because at this moment every word and every minute counts. And while I am writing away, I will try my best not to get any chocolate on my keyboard.