I love to write. To me, it is like going on a long walk in the fresh Spring air, with birds singing, the wind gently blowing, and the glorious sun shining. A walk like that usually leaves me invigorated and refreshed.
I love my family. They are funny, intelligent, wonderful, witty people—every single one of them. I adore spending time with them, chatting, laughing, and exchanging stories. Time spent with my family leaves me feeling loved and safe, like all must be right with the world.
So life must be perfectly grand, right? I mean, here I have too different aspects of my life that I absolutely adore, so if one isn’t available, the other must be waiting on the sidelines.
If only it were that simple, but unfortunately family and writing clash horribly. It is my own fault really, because I can only write in a quiet environment with little or no distractions. Probably because the scenes I’m writing play out in my head like a movie.
So when a member of my family enters, the movie abruptly switches off. Ideas scurry away like a mouse from a cat. Thoughts disappear like smoke in a windstorm. My ability to write melts away like ice on a hot skillet.
Well, you get the drift.
Such is the life of a writer with a family, and frankly, I wouldn’t give up any part of it!
Oh, by the way:
Viridia is now published! Look how fabulous they all look together on the Amazon page.