Dinner or a novel?

Hello again!

Welcome to Tightrope Tuesday!!!

Yesterday I wrote about how I overcame my fear of writing a novel & pounded out two in three months.

But how did I manage parenting at the same time?

The answer is: poorly.

You would think that the hard part was managing to keep the books separate in my head. No, it seemed that the deeper I swam in the manuscripts the more adept I became at swimming.

The hard part was drying off. Coming back to reality. Life.

Let me just say that I hate cooking. I always say: “We can make dinner, or we can write a novel.” I choose the novel!

Maybe there’s a genetic gene missing in me, but I get no thrill from serving up dinner. I’m glad when people appreciate my offerings (I happen to be good at basic things – the secret is keeping it simple) – but tearing myself away from my computer to boil water for rice and chop garlic is about as appealing to me as a thirteen hour plane ride with no leg room and someone snoring next to me.

Even worse is planning a meal. I dread that question: “What’s for dinner?”

Shop-Rite claims to have the answer, but I shop in Stop & Shop. I would guess that even in Shop-Rite you have to hunt down their aisles for the answer. Honestly, don’t we have to do enough searching in our lives? Supermarkets should make announcements: “Dinner for tonight: Grilled pork chops marinated in whatever sauce with whatever sprinkled on them and a side of whatever.” You can see how much I care.

It’s just FOOD!!! Whatever!!!! Can we get back to writing, or what???

So let’s just say that while I wrote two novels simultaneously, there was lots of Chinese food involved.

I should’ve dedicated the books to the people at the Chinese take-out place.

I was still married at that time, and my ex is a devoted dad – but he didn’t cook dinners back then. Funny how we both cook separately now – is it a rivalry? Hmmm...The psychology of cooking dinner for your kids. You see how I think of things – as possible topics.

Anyway, how I managed to take care of my kids while I wrote the books is kind of a blur, but they did survive. I like to think I passed on my work ethic to my son Michael, who is quite devoted to his schoolwork. Casey is a little tougher, but he’s coming around. I love to look up words with him in my WRITER’S FLIP DICTIONARY.

I know I’ve set an example to follow a passion – and Michael is doing that with law.

But there is a price for passion, and that is often everyday life. When I’m typing an idea and Casey is staring at me from the staircase because he wants me to give him a ride somewhere, it’s hard to concentrate. (Mental note: Lock myself in a room where he can’t get to me.) Just kidding ;)

A writer friend of mine told me about someone she knows who hangs this sign on her office door for her kids: “I don’t love you when I’m writing.”

Ouch! Massive shrink bills ahead!!!

I ALWAYS love my kids, and they know that. But they also know they have a growing number of adopted siblings who I must nurture in my manuscripts. Like new additions to the family, they need extra attention. And, like real babies, they call to me in the middle of the night! I could never leave my kids wailing in the crib – nor can I ignore my characters’ cries.

Being a writer’s child is tough. But it’s also not so tough, I think.

I’d like to think I bring empathy and honesty to the dinner table, even if the steak is burnt because I needed to jot an idea down.

What I remember most about that time when I wrote the novels is what five year old Casey said when I finished: “Mommy, please don’t ever write two books together again.”

I didn’t write two novels simultaneously again, but a month later I was struck by my darkest novel, EVOLUTION. That sent me into a deep depression, and literally altered my personality. My poor kids...

The good thing was that I wrote it over the summer. I do tend to get these things out fast. Like Stephen King said: Write a novel in a season.

I think my kids have survived relatively unscathed. If not, I’ll have to chip in for their shrink bills. It’s only fair.