Time to Write

I am really busy lately. Blogging and reading blogs is difficult to fit in. I'm writing for me, looking for sources and setting up interviews for the paying gig, trying to be present with my husband (instead of peering at him over the top of our laptops all of the time), taking more time to play with my son (I'd rather he doesn't remember me as "Dell"), working my part-time copywriter job, marathon training, reading actual books and attempting to get the laundry done (I've pretty much given up on the rest of the house).

I started writing something on my lunch break on Thursday. It's memoirish. It's about playing sports and being a girl and gaining weight and running and family. This is not the first time I've written about this so I wouldn't consider this a new project. It's ongoing but nothing is in the same document. I think that's okay.

Meanwhile, I still have my children's book. I've been working on this in spurts. I'll write a bunch. Then I will take a few days and let it simmer. Then I'll write down something I thought of during that time.

I've also been thinking a lot about an article (here) I read on children's picture book writing: age groups. There's a difference between picture books for toddlers and picture books for kindergartners and up, etc. I knew this, but never really thought about it.

It's interesting how "thinking" is different for me when I'm working on these two writing projects. For the memoirish one, I just write and I sort of remember things as I go. I'm thinking and writing at the same time. For the picture book, I think then I write. Then I think some more. Wait. Write.

The picture book is definitely easier for me to fit into my lifestyle. But I am having a lot of fun with the memoir. It's just a matter of finding a chunk of time in my day that is not already filled. I am not a morning writer, so getting up earlier does not work for me (not that I sleep in). I'm really slow in the morning and I tend to take so long that I run out of time to write. And there's too much going on in the evenings. Besides, I already stay up too late for the early hours I rise during the week.

T Junior's nap time in the middle of the day is the best time. I just have to turn all the other media off. And it's only a couple times a week that I'm home for this. I guess it's better than nothing.

For a while, I was trying to schedule the writing in. But then I had an excuse to not do it when I had a moment (like during a nap). Instead, I was getting up at 4:30 a.m., but I was so slow and tired that by the time I was ready to write, I had about 20 minutes left till the baby was up. Then it felt forced. I felt pressure. Not good.

This post has already taken longer than it should, but I needed to get it out there. Blogging is a good warm up. If only I had more time!

A Paying Gig

I got an e-mail from a friend and editor today. She works in the city's only daily newspaper and she offered me a freelance job.

I took it. The subject is fun, and I couldn't pass it up!

Hopefully, I won't get sidetracked for too long.

I did actually do something toward my picture book goal today. I took T Junior to the library and looked for books that he would love: anything with trucks, trains, cars, etc. But I didn't want to get the ones that just show the truck with the word underneath "excavator," you know? I wanted real picture books. An actual story.

But I also had another reason for getting these. I had an idea for a story a few days ago that I wrote down (very rough draft, very rough). It was inspired by my former job at truck (big rigs) company. I worked at the corporate office, but loved to visit the plant floor. So, I was looking for picture books about trucks or cars, just to see what's out there.

We found two great books!

T Junior wanted to read Who Is Driving? by Leo Timmers over and over again. We may have to buy this one.

And I loved Little Blue Truck by Alice Schertle, illustrated by Jill McElmurry. Fabulous story, engaging words and pictures.

It's  been a long time since I've been to the library to check out books. We'll definitely be back!

Writer vs. Author

I think I had an epiphany about writing.

I was reading the March issue of Runner's World of all things when I had it. On the very last page there is story about Apolo Ohno, the Olympic speed skater who is from Seattle (even though the article says Salt Lake City -- what's up with that?).

I didn't know this, but he didn't make the Olympic team on his first try (1998). What? He says he was at his lowest point after that happened (or failed to happen). Then, he says, this:

"One day, in the middle of a rainy, cold run, I stopped and asked myself how much I wanted to be a speed skater. If I was going to fulfill my dream, I knew that I needed to finish my run, no matter how many blisters I had or how bad I felt. That was the turning point for me." (Runner's World, March 2010)

How much do I want to be a writer?

Wait, that question is too vague. I am a writer. I write every day. All the time. I do lots of blogging, but I also start many stories (and never finish them), and journal in about 50 different notebooks that I have all over the house. I'm even lucky enough to have a part-time job writing. So, even when I'm away from my laptop, I'm writing.

What I need to do is define what I want to be. For example, I want to be a marathoner. So, I'm putting in the hours and the training, and like Mr. Ohno, I'm toughing it out, blisters and all.

What kind of writer to I want to be? A freelance magazine writer? A newspaper columnist? A professional blogger? Write for Web sites? A chick-lit author? Do I want to write YA? A memoirist? Or, do I want write about my favorite genre to read?

Picture books. I love them. No, I adore them. I absolutely coudn't wait until I had a child to read to. An excuse to buy picture books. I keep coming back to this genre (and I'm talking about over several years here).

So I've decided. I want to be a picture book author. The problem is, I keep straying from the genre whenever an idea for something, anything blows through my brain. But how much do I want to be a picture book author?

That is the question.

The answer isn't quite as easy as the one for how badly do I want to be a marathoner? Answer: enough to sacrifice time with my husband and son, and endure physical pain and self-doubt.

Hmmm. Actually, that doesn't sound that much different than what I would've written for the picture book question. Swap "emotional" for "physical" and I think I've got something here.