Sometimes I get discouraged by real life cutting into my creative time. It's a road block. It stops me from writing freely without interruptions. Living in a house with three teenage boys, who are I might add louder than a concert, I get very little uninterrupted moments. As I type this, one of them is wrapping another up in a blanket...let me correct that...several blankets until the one being wrapped can't move or breathe. This is apparently a fun activity. Its also very loud. It also makes me smile. While real life cuts into my writing time it does give me a lot to work with. There isn't a day that goes by that some odd ball incident, some bizarre stunt they pull, some beyond logic conversation doesn't inspire me. I'm inspired in so many ways. Not for a full length piece of literary work to capture the attention of demanding readers but just to write. To write, wel, to just write. There's nothing like having writer's block to sit down and write about some 3 stooges moment to let the creativity flow. I guess that's just what life is. Not so much a road block but a detour. I have characters come to life with such strong and wild personalities sometimes I wonder where they come from. Tonight I realized where. They all have a piece or two that draws from the manic moments in my home. From my children. Ain't life grand?
Category:
family,
growth,
writing
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