Enter Primal Scream Here: A Writer Needs More Time

primal screamAs a writer, I need more time in the day! I’m not kidding. This multitasking thing is for the birds. Gobble gobble. I love my blog. I thoroughly enjoy putting my words out into the ether in the hopes they connect to you. Oh, I love to cook. Have I mentioned? Laundry, not so much, but the irritating thing about laundry is if you don’t do it, you’re running around naked. Not my concern, but The Beard frowns on that sort of thing.

Enter primal scream here. I’ve too much to do! I’ve discussed the noise in my head. Yeah, I hear voices. “Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.” -Margaret Chittenden.

I don’t sit and stare at walls all day, I wrestle with the deluge of domestic and business flotsam interfering with my writing time. Currently, I’m on writing fire! The Esau Convergence hums along in my brain along with the two other books sitting in stasis. The characters fight for space and attention in a cacophony.

I talk to myself. Well, not really to myself, I give voice to the characters in my head. Entire conversations take place out loud. If I don’t find time to get them down on paper, they voicesrun on a continuous loop. Not a bad thing, sometimes I discover a new piece of information or a scene I didn’t know. Other times, I’m not sleeping for the distraction.

It’s not just my books zooming around in my cranium, it’s the blog. I have three posts bouncing around my skull. My life is in the way of my life! At this moment, I’m juggling this post, chapter 16 in Convergence, doing laundry, boiling water to make macaroni and cheese for Native American Decimation Day, and tripping over dogs who think my scurrying is a game. I just took a breath.

Native American Decimation Day Plan of Attack

Remember Alice? Dating myself here, but what did Carol Brady DO all day? I need a trusty Alice to balance the demands on my time. Talk about a woman who had her shite together.

Insanity. Okay, it’s a joyful dementia. Not laundry, laundry isn’t joyful, but the rest, it’s the chaos of living in the Circus. This rush of creativity is a boon. Of course, next week as I’m staring out the window struggling to make progress I’ll want to scream again.