Number One still has three days of gymnastics, Number Two and Darling Daughter are taking swimming lessons twice a week, and Number Two is also in the middle of soccer season. We are busy. Plus, I'm really trying to commit to working out five days a week. I usually do that in the morning, aka blog time, so it limits my writing time.
Yes, I just gave you a bunch of excuses why I can't write. Excuses are excuses, and I can be full of them sometimes! I use excuses to excuse myself from working out too. My shin is hurting, I didn't sleep enough last night, etc. You can always find valid excuses when you're trying to avoid something or when you don't want to commit to something.
But I have some good excuses too. I've been trying to meat up a couple of stories to send away to a few contests on May 1st. I have a deadline, and those are my first priority before blogging. My writing energy has been directed towards that purpose. I still need an editor, or a circle of friends who is willing to be constructively critical. I'll take just plain old criticism at this point: it doesn't even have to be constructive. I edit my own works, over and over again, but sometimes having a fresh pair of eyes is what you need. Where does one find a group of people who are willing to read your work for free and edit? A group of people who has time on their hands? I have no idea. All my friends are in the same busy boat as I am, barely keeping it from sinking with everything going on in their lives.
Sometimes I get so discouraged. I feel like I'll never make it as a writer if I can't devote my whole existence to it. I read an encouraging blog the other day, and I wish I could remember the name, but it said this: Everyone's first draft sucks. I liked that. The blog also said you must devote one hour a day for the rest of your life to writing if you want to be heard, want to be published, want to get your name out there. I'm not sure I even have one free hour now. Somehow, I have to fit it in. Fit it in between work, chauffeuring to swimming lessons, spin class, dinner time, bath time, and stick it into one of the two free bookend hours of my day before I go back to sleep. I need to do it. I need to commit to it they way I've recommitted to exercise. I need to realize everyone goes through rejection and everyone's first draft sucks. Writing is about work and about dedication and about doing what I love. Without that, I'd never be heard.
