Every morning, my alarm rings, and I launch into the day, getting four kids off to three different schools before heading to my campus for a full day teaching high school. What do I write? Fourteen restroom passes.
In the evenings, between dinner and soccer practice, I argue with at least two children about homework or chores, and check that I didn’t forget to pay the bills online. What do I write? a grocery list and my signature on reading logs or permission slips.
All the while, the ideas in my creative writing journals sit simmering, waiting to be told. Sometimes I get twitchy thinking about the stories I haven’t told yet. I think about my drawer of stories waiting to be finished. There just isn’t enough time in my day to get it all done and write. Right?
Wrong.