When I first started writing, I set up a really nice routine: first I'd read for a chapter or two of a book outside my genre, then I'd read a chapter from a writing book of some sort for inspiration followed by a writing exercise and then I'd start on my project. After I finished on my project, I'd re-read the writing book to ensure that I'd incorporated some piece of advice.
I wrote so much and I really loved my process. Then we adopted a teenager and, oh well, there went that routine.
My head swarms with ideas: I "write" scenes as I fall asleep at night, when I'm driving in the car, doing mindless chores, watching boring TV shows with the family. However, I struggle to find the time and the inclination to get the words out of my head and onto paper.
My husband supports my writing habit, but my son interrupts me every time I sit down. I've taken to locking myself in the bedroom during the day and writing with the dogs crawling over me. However, this can only take place once in a blue moon.
I miss my old routine. I miss that feeling of accomplishment, of the sense of professionalism as I applied what I learned. I miss the Twitter chats that occurred when I used the hashtag #amwriting.
I miss the writing community.
When I started writing, I knew two people who'd meet up with me and we'd write together. I miss that sharing of our progress, that sense of camaraderie. Now, I'm the only one who continues to write while the other two gave up.
It's time to take back my life.