I have trouble writing in the summer. I don’t work at my regular job in the summer, so really I should be able to pound out the words. But the ugly truth is I stay up late and don’t get up early so there isn’t any real quiet time. My oldest daughter, bless her heart, wants to spend time with me, so when the other kids go to bed she wants me to sit and watch movies with her. And when she wasn’t here it was my husband and the ball games that broke my concentration. It’s my own fault. I know that if I want serious writing time I have to get out of bed between four and five in the morning. I just don’t discipline myself well.
On top of that it seems my grandma is dying. She’s ninety-eight, so she’s had a good run – but as I’ve said here before I was really expecting to attend her hundredth birthday party. My Grandma is on my mind a lot these days, and that affects my writing too. But the fact remains; if I want to grow up and be a writer I have to actually write.