How’d You Find the Time?

Whenever I tell someone that I have a book coming out soon (Whoo, June 24^th !), nearly the first thing everyone says is, “A book? That’s great.” Kudos, kudos, kudos… Then they inevitably add, “How’d you find the time to write a book?”

I’m like any other writer, or maybe like most. I don’t get to support myself with my writing, so I work a full time job—44 hours a week. That’s not easy and takes up a great deal of my time, but there are bills to pay. And I like my job. Of course, I don’t end up with a lot of time left over to write, but I manage. The best ideas always hit in the shower, when I don’t have a pen and paper handy. But I usually get them down before they disappear. Inevitably, I write on the way to work. Sometimes in my head. Sometimes on the notebook I keep in my purse. At traffic lights only, of course. And like most writers, I carve out a little of my day to—

“You don’t need a snack right now, sweetie. Supper will be ready a minute. Now go practice your guitar, mama’s trying to write her blog.” Sorry…that was my son, Now where were we? Oh, yeah, Somehow I manage to sneak in a couple of hours before I go to bed. And, if I’m lucky, a half-hour or so when I get home from—

“What was that, honey? Okay, I’ll do a load of whites. Just let me finish this up. I understand that you don’t have any t-shirts for tomorrow. I’ll get them done. Promise.” Now, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, if I’m lucky sometimes I can sneak in a paragraph or two while supper cooks—thank the lord for casseroles!

“No, honey. I don’t know if he fed the dog, Why don’t you go ask him? Well, you’re as close to him as I am. You go ask. I’m trying to write before the ideas leave.”

What of my time isn’t promised to the “day job” gets divvied up between the various members of my family. I have a son and a husband, three sisters, a brother, a mom and dad and all sorts of in-laws who—

Hold on a sec. That’s my sister calling. “Hey. No, I’m not too busy. Just writing my blog. What’s up? For real? Uh-huh. I know. Give it a day or two and things will be back to normal. Yeah, I should go. I’ll call back later, ‘kay? Love you. Bye.”

Where was I…? Oh, my family. They are the true loves of my life. They give me support and encouragement and don’t deny the call when they see my name on the caller ID.

But I guess most of the spare time I chisel out of my day comes from not watching TV. The boob-tube’s all right, I suppose, but I’d rather be writing. Consequently, I’m a little out of touch with what’s going on in the wor—

“No, its not ready yet, son. Just a minute more.”

What was I saying? Oh, that sometimes I’m a little out of touch with what’s going on in the world. What movies won awards and who’s dating/divorcing/cheating/loving/making up in Hollywood. But that’s okay. I don’t feel like I’m missing—

Hang on. Need to go start that load of whites.

much. There’s not really anything good on anyway. (And if there is, please don’t tell me. I don’t want to get sucked into a show like I did with American Idol this season! Go, James!)

So all in all, I suppose I’m just like any other writer, taking my spare time and turning it into—

Yikes! There’s the smoke alarm. Gotta go! Time to rescue dinner.

Whew! Where did I find the time to write a book? I’m not quite sure myself!