Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

(re-posted from 2013)

This week I have tried hard to reflect on what it means to me to be a writer, and it has been difficult. For a start, I don’t think that writing and families automatically go to together. Not in my house anyway.

There are times when I have absolutely no chance at all of picking up a pen and actually writing with it. Something always seems to happen, or go wrong, or need fixing, or finding.

Yes, I know there should be some ground rules, but somehow they don’t get enforced around here. So I try and write whenever I can and it isn’t always easy or convenient.

Just sometimes though, it is magical. I can forget who I am, where I am and all the things I should be doing instead.

I can feel in my bones that it will all get better, that the struggle will be worth it, because I can feel myself falling a little in love with what I am doing.

NEWS FLASH!

I am beginning to believe that I may just be creating something good, something infinitely readable!

Quite apart from that revelation, it has been a lousy week. Lots of rain (which can be good because it means no gardening!) and I am getting a cold so I have been feeling generally horrid. But I have been expanding my plot ideas, so not a complete waste of a week.
But Wimbledon will start soon… another test of my dedication. I am usually glued to the TV for all my favourite players. Everything is hinged to whichever match I am watching…meals have to wait…hell, everything has to wait until the final ball and the winner lifts the cup.

Having said all that I realise that is exactly the kind of dedication there should be for my writing. Why haven’t I noticed before that nobody interrupts my tennis? Why is it different? I have never insisted on it or screamed abuse, so what makes it different?

Then it came to me. It has to be proportionate to my passion. So, once my family know how important (passionate) writing is becoming to me, I should expect the same response from them.

I might have known that the shortcoming would be mine!

P.S. Am I alone in my struggle, or are there hundreds of you out there with similar problems?
© Anita Dawes