I’ve had visitors in the house for over a week. We’ve been driving around, visiting other relatives, showing off the local sights. I’ve cooked three huge meals and made a ton of sandwiches. I’ve seen four movies in five days (who knew there were so many films for kids out at the same time of year?) and countless DVD’s.
What I haven’t been doing is writing.
I’m trying to tell myself that these are the moments in life to savor, and that these opportunities for family and friends don’t come around often. But, I don’t know, I feel kinda restless. Dare I say . . . resentful. I want to get back to work.
I’ve tried to jot notes down in my little idea notebook, but inevitably some kid will come up to me just as I’m writing something down and ask if I can get them a juice box or to referee a squabble over Monopoly. Or worse, what I’m doing.
Actual time on a keyboard. . . . fuggetaboutit.
I’ve taken to a lot of staring into space, thinking about my novel. Plot points and bits of dialogue are seething at the edges of my brain, waiting to get out. I’m thrilled that the story is so present for me. Trouble is, I usual forget those goodies I come up with while driving or chopping veggies. They might as well be mist and smoke for all I’ll be able to do with them.
Do you have moments when you crave to be writing and can’t? How do you handle it? Better than I am, I hope.
Photo by =believe-hope.