I have decided I need a couple of extra hours in the day.  I get up on a morning determined to do certain tasks before the end of the day do they all get done? Hell no.  The toddler moves round the house like a mini tornado leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.  If we go to relatives houses he will happily pick up after himself and put things away.  At home he has developed the same habits as the teenager, if you leave it long enough mum will move it.  Then of course there are the various pets we have aquired the dog, cat and two guinea pigs to clear up after and take care of.  The only one that has not ended up as my responsibility is the hamster and that is only because he lives in the teenagers bedroom, the one room I refuse to venture into. On top of this the back garden needs sorting as over the winter the brambles have made a comeback.  Why do they still manage to grow in winter? This will also fall on me as the other half would rather concrete the whole thing than do gardening.  The problem is that wanting to write means that I have to squeeze even more into the day.  It has taken an hour so far to get this much of this blog done in between other tasks.  Then once I get home from work around 9 pm tonight if I am lucky I will get a couple of hours writing done on the novel.  I long for the day when I can make a living from writing and no longer have to waste precious hours of writing time leaving the house to earn a living lol.

I work in a supermarket on a till, not particularly taxing work you might think but one day there may be a book there though whether it would be a comedy or a tragedy depends on the sort of day I have had.  The one good thing about it is the people you meet.  For someone who likes people watching it is fascinating.  If it isn’t too busy I play games while sat there, looking at people and describing them as I would write a description.  But my mind often wanders back home to the place in the story where I had to leave off the night before.

It is so frustrating to have to turn the computer off without having finished a chapter I am working at.  But once you reach the point where you are so tired you can’t see straight, then it doesn’t matter how good the ideas that are coming, it all reads back as nonsense.  I guess it is all about finding a balance.  Finding a way to fit in everything that matters.   During the day obviously the family has to come first, on an evening I try to prioritise my writing but until it becomes something that the other half and the teenager actually see as productive they find it hard to let me get on with it.  The other half sees it as a hobby something to amuse me for a while that will be forgotten in time.  Sometimes I wish he would show more interest.  I have friends who are reading along with the novel as I write he has never shown any interest in reading it “You know I don’t read fiction”  The teenager started to read it but stopped at the first naughty bit. “Its not what you wrote mum its the fact you wrote it” I am so thankful to my friends that they at least have been willing to read along and encouraged me to keep going.  Maybe one day when I finally get published my family will want to read what I have written.  Until then I will carry on and share it with the ones who are interested.