The Perils Of Writing In The Kitchen

So, in my last post, I kinda-sorta-maybe pledged five posts a week this week. Yeah, not so much.

For a few reasons:

Mustard Sandwiches

Isla is off school for two weeks, and she’s in the ‘let’s eat mustard sandwiches’ stage of development. She was very proud of herself when she made her own sandwich on Monday.

I kinda freaked out when the only thing she put in there was mustard. I was convinced she’d rip her stomach up and get sick, and after that I was generally grossed out by the whole thing.

In the end, she she took three bites and left it. But I’ve been vigilant ever since.

Motivation

This is a difficult one. Because I’m not the sarcastic but lovely bitch you all think I am. Well, yes I am. But I don’t write for fun, I write to make a difference. I share and I blog to create the community I lack at the moment.

While I choose not to be inspirational, I do want to motivate other people to do whatever the hell your thing is.

But when the cheerleader needs help, that’s a problem.

I’m trying to fight apathy, namely my own.

The Perils of Kitchen Writing

Everyone knows that I write in the kitchen and everyone knows why. At the moment, the refrigerator is running, and the dishwasher is on. Our walls have little insulation. Instead of hearing my husband type like a fiend, he’s working through guitar arpeggios on his lunch break.

Also when you write in the kitchen, you eat all the damn food. That can’t be just me. I am an emotional eater, who is pretty much always hungry and/or bored these days.

It’s pretty lucky that all the food I really want to eat is 3,091 miles away.

Then There’s The Insects

Isla shouts every time she sees a Daddy Long Legs. When there’s one or a few in the bathroom, she can’t go.

Neil trying to get the buggers out of the house is a whole thing. That puts me off my writing. In the kitchen. Because our main door is the kitchen door, and damn if people and insects don’t use it.

I Should Probably Change My Writing Routine

Other writers who write in the kitchen, can we admit that it sucks?

There’s the TV, and the kids, and appliances, and open doors. And we lie to ourselves that we thrive on the noise or that we can tune it out. We lie that we don’t want to drive to coffee shop writing. And that no, repeating all the different species of penguin isn’t annoying. At all.

I went from a night writer, to morning writer, to frustrated writer. Because here I am again, writing about not writing.

I rarely get in the zone. I know you have to create the zone, but that’s an issue, too. And if I want to hit these writing goals and life goals, I can’t have issues.

Speaking of issues, I become an unlovely person when I don’t write. For someone who needs it and breathes it, I don’t honor the need enough.

So, perhaps a reframe. Getting up earlier. Getting up to write when I can’t sleep because I’m not writing.

What keeps you from doing your thing?