I was able to sneak in some work on my novel tonight, and it feels great. I thought I would be working late, miss putting my son to bed and getting home too exhausted to do anything but collapse, but instead I got out early enough to pack one box in preparation for our big move, have sweet cuddles and a story before my son fell asleep, and get to do some creative work along with a handful of chores before going to bed myself.
There is such a profound joy I find in writing, when I can give myself the time and the mental space to really tap into it. I sometimes have a difficult time cutting through all the other noise in my head to completely tap into that zone, but when I do, it’s one of the best feelings ever. Once we’re settled in our new house, and once the new baby is allowing us to sleep through the night again, I will make it a more regular practice, despite my crazy work hours. I have so many stories that I want to tell that have been put on hold for too long. They deserve to be written down and shared.