So my husband and I went for a walk this evening. We started in a great mood, enjoying the sunshine and beautiful scenery. Unfortunately, it ended with me pushing the baby stroller back home in a snit. I know, I tend to get offended a bit easily at times, but my hubby telling me that I need to finish my book sometime before I turn 90 was not what I wanted to hear at the moment.
I am an ARTIST. My creativity does not work on demand. I cannot just spit out a grand epic fantasy in a couple of months. I need time to mull things over....character arcs...plot devices...wicked cool action sequences. I know I procrastinate a bit more than I should (and I DID waste five months of medical leave playing online poker...BAD Lisa!), but great things take time. Had I tried to write the book in a year, as he insinuated I should have done, I would have ended up with crap that would in no way resemble the masterpiece that I am so carefully crafting--complete with heart and wit and a dash of FABulous.
Ok, I'm being a bit touchy. I just hate it when people think that writing is easy and can/should be accomplished like a certain Twilight author who wrote a complete bestseller in three months while running a household of growing kidlets. I am not that amazing. I DO, however, admit that I could be making some sacrifices to see my goals achieved. This means that sometimes the dishes won't get done or dinner might not be some grand, three-course delight. I may not even take a shower that day.
My husband did have a point. I can try harder. I can let less important things take a back burner for now (just please, not the sleep!) while I try and finish this great novel that is going on, ahem, four years to date. It is incredibly hard with a two month old who hates to take naps and likes to be attended to almost every hour of the day, but it can be done.
Sigh. I guess it is good that I married a man who can goad me into achieving my hopes and dreams. I hope he likes Kraft Dinner :)
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