If you read the acknowledgment page in most books, you probably won’t see the phrase ‘this novel almost didn’t happen for all the intrusions, complaints, tears, and burnt pages courtesy of my family.’ No, all you see are thanks, heartfelt support, and absolutely no mention of the nanny. My acknowledgment page won’t either. In part because we couldn’t afford a nanny, and by the time I came into my second-coming regarding writing my kids were grown. The people I don’t understand are those who work full-time, have young kids (with the usual litany of obligations) and still find time to write the bestseller. How. Is. This. Possible?
I can’t explain. I’ve been privileged to write at my own pace, most often during daylight hours, and in an airy office way back on the second floor of my house–very quiet. My husband is incredibly indulgent as long as dinner is on the table–and dinner is a flexible term–and my kids are enrolled in grad school. But even with those advantages there are still any number of interruptions that throw off my writing groove. To those writers who have masterful powers of concentration, I lift my glass to you. To the others like me, we’ll somehow get through. I’m almost sure of it.