Monday Musings

I have the aternoon to myself for a change, and what do I do, I spend it fiddling with my blogger template. It's not exactly fixed, but better than it was. There's still a huge amount of space between the post below this one and the one that follows. I'm hoping it will straighten itself out after several posts. Or at least push them onto another page. Sigh. If it's not one thing it's another.

Anyway, I spent the morning working on my novel; it's getting there. I'm hoping I can tie up all the loose ends in this last third. I wanted to have the first draft done by June 1, so the clock is ticking. I'm pleased with the progress I've made so far. I think it's safe to say that there are plenty of cliffhangers to keep me busy. However, the last day of school is Wednesday, and then I'll have CWGIII home while I try to write and work, so it will be a juggling act. I do plan on enjoying the summer with him, so I may be putting in some long hours at night. What do you do when the story is running rampant in your brain, fighting to get out, gnawing at your consciousness til you think you're going to scream if you don't get back to it? My sister was right. Until I get this novel done, I'm livin' in a fantasy world. She thinks it's a coping mechanism. I think it's me fighting to become who I was meant to be. What do you think?

I've also been tinkering with my writing method -- changing the location of my work space and the atmosphere. I haven't tried writing with mood music, which I read some other authors do. Somehow I don't think the theme music to General Hospital counts. In general, my best work comes with complete silence and my laptop out of sight of any scenery or exterior distractions, which is very difficult to achieve during the daytime. Today I'm writing from the den, with a t.v. tray serving as a makeshift desk. Usually I have a cup of coffee, sometimes two, to fuel the plot.

It's almost impossible to try to write when the family is home. One wants my attention, which he well deserves; the other wants the computer, which I reluctantly surrender with a grudge.
I find myself shhshing them when they interrupt me at critical points, then feeling guilty about it later. I know that to them it is a hobby --a sideline, fun time for mommy. I know that I am the only one that is taking this seriously, maybe even too seriously. I got my family. I got my home. Now I just want the dream. Is that so bad? If Beneath the Ivy Wreath is ...the frustrating rollercoaster of a middle class mother's struggle to keep her sanity while attempting to establish herself as a serious writer and juggle her hopes and dreams to the backdrop of her daily grind, then what do you call my work in progress? --I can't wait to call it "finished." Stay tuned friends.