Writing and Other Priorities

Becoming the next Barbara Kinsolver, JK Rowling or Julia Childs is not my goal. I do want to be a good writer that can possibly benefit financially from my writing, or at least influence others to help them to set goals, enjoy the benefits of cooking and baking and maybe to live a good life. The issue is not the idea factory, for I am constantly writing blogs in my head. The issue is making time to sit down and write!

Maybe because I was tied to the computer writing nearly 100 articles about wheel chocks, or possibly the time I was glued to my chair over three days writing 40 articles about wicker furniture that I don’t like to prioritize my time here. It could also be the age of my computer, one put together at the turn of the century (wow!) and reconfigured internally probably five years ago. The distractions of family life are the third obstruction to sitting down and writing. Either a sweet child of mine or my dear husband is calling my name in need of a talk, a lunch made or a ride somewhere, or something on the stove, in the washing machine or the ironing board is making more noise for attention than my old computer. The fact is, I feel guilty sitting down to write when there are needs of others and I’m not getting paid. That’s where my big priority to be a writer keeps getting pushed down – I prefer to be paid to sit at the computer when I have so many other owners to attend to.

For example, I just got up momentarily to use the restroom. While I was in there, I noticed that it had a faint odor a litter box that had been temporarily stored in the bath last night as we have a new cat. So, I needed to spray a cleaner on the floor. No paper towels meant going to the kitchen to retrieve a new package, unwrapping them and using a few. When the job was done, I didn’t want to leave the used towels in the room, so I went to put them in the laundry room trash. There, the trash can did not have a liner, so I went back to the kitchen to get a grocery bag, and placed it in the can with the trash. While in the laundry room, I noted the damp towels that needed to be placed in the dryer, which I took care of. Once back in the kitchen on the way to the office, I passed by the pork that is sitting on the counter, still partly frozen, squealing to me to place it in the crock pot. That, however would require me to cut onion, potato and carrots to add to it with the chicken broth and spices, which would surely distract me long enough that I would not get back to my writing before my family wakes up – missing the moments of silence (except for the squealing pig, laundry, and bathroom). I am a wife and mother, and I accept the responsibility.