Sure, I could throw out the whole "I've got four kids" excuse and get a sympathetic sigh from at least one person, but really my kids self-function. I could drop off the planet and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't notice I was gone until the fridge was completely barren or they needed help with a book report. And, okay, being the camp director for our Young Women was a big job, but camp wrapped up a month ago. The kids are in school, the yard is being neglected, I've only vacuumed once in the last 2 weeks (shhh, don't tell my mom), and I'm pretty sure the pizza we had for dinner last night had zero nutritional value. Apparently my domestic prowess isn't what's holding me back. So, what is it that keeps me from stealing even an hour or two to write?
The simple answer? Being an author.
And that's the oxymoronish truth. I - apparently naive to the publishing world - thought that the hard part was actually creating a story worth sharing. I thought I'd turn the manuscript over and voila', move on to my next project. I had no idea that my work was just beginning. The 89k words of Hope's Journey were the easy part, now I get to learn all kinds of stuff about marketing. Seriously? I couldn't even sell a pair of magic glasses to a blind man. Luckily, I know a thing or two about computers and design (very handy skills for creating trailers, bookmarks, and web pages), but beyond that, this whole marketing thing is foreign to me. This is where my stubbornness may actually be a virtue... because, I will figure it out. I will make it work. And, if pizza has to become a staple around here, so be it, I will find the time to write!