I’m not writing these days.
It’s hard to focus when the kids are home from school and the door to the office in my 100+ year old house neither closes nor locks. When I do get a few minutes alone the computer crashes (I’m looking at you, Windows 8). The roof/ceiling/shower and basement have all developed simultaneous leaks. The air pressure valves in the car are acting up. And dang it, we have to go see the dentist/optometrist/doctor for our grossly overdue check-ups before school starts in (wait, already?!) a little over month.
“I don’t see how you can write during the summer,” one of my friends said when I told her of our drama. “I can barely keep up with all the activities and camps and parties without adding work to the mix.”
But here’s the thing she doesn’t understand. My brain NEEDS to write. It turns into a drama queen basket-case if it doesn’t. It hangs on by a tenuous thread of sanity. If I can’t write, I’d better be reading something really good, especially when life gets crazy. Right now Joe Leaphorn’s crime solving prowess at the Navajo nation (thank you, Tony Hillerman) is so much more engaging than leaky roofs, judgmental dental hygienists and blocking the office door with my sweater basket.
Do you use writing or reading to deal with life? What are your favorite literary escapes?