I’m busy. Really busy. So I decided, until I had an actual contract, I’d have to ease back on writing time, make way for other stuff, the stuff of life:
Running the farm
Setting up new business
Feeding the children
Cleaning the hen house
Driving Son all over the county for fencing competitions.
I really did mean it when I said it.
I even told my writer’s group.
Then I had a niggly idea. I started a new note book. Just notes. Nothing too time consuming. Then a chapter out line, that’s all, nothing too absorbing.
Then I had another idea. One of those ideas that takes over your head. And a character – complex and lovable – who was crying out for me to tell her (crazy) story.
So I’m finding the time.
That’s what makes a writer. Not contracts. Writing. And that is the stuff of my life.
PS: I lied about the dusting. You knew that though, right?