For many of my friends you will understand what I’m about to say. I am frustrated. The kitchen is a disaster. It looks like a nuclear waste site and smells like one too. If I was into that portion of my book then I might have been far more jovial about the concept of entering the danger zone and cleaning the mess. It could provide some great sensory research material to draw from but I’m not writing that portion of the series right now. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to clean, it’s just that I’d rather be writing. See the difference?
Someday, when my dreams have become a reality, when my books are best selling novels and I can afford to pay someone to clean for me, I still could never have someone else washing my pots, pans, and dishes for me and yet, I know I’d rather be writing than cleaning as always.
What a conundrum! Alas, today this post began on Facebook of all places! So did it even really count as a viable excuse because I am indeed writing? I think not. I’m going to have to leave my computer, tackle the kitchen fully armed in a biohazard suit just so I can stop feeling guilty, and when I return… no, IF I return, then I’ll really do some hardcore writing.
I write this post with heartfelt sympathy to writers everywhere. I understand and my heart is right there with you. I feel your pain. I really do.