The lack of sleep and two Mother's Day margaritas knocked me on my ass, so I'm posting this a day late. Celebrating mothers and all they do has left me thinking just how similar being a mom (or a parent in general) is to being an unknown writer. This is only my opinion, so please don't start some stupid debate about the points I'm about to make.
Being a mom, especially to kids as young as mine, is a thankless job. We get one day a year where we are lauded and appreciated, but for the other 364 days we spend our time cleaning messes, wiping asses, lacking sleep and losing our sanity a little bit each day. As soon as we've managed damage control on one mess, we turn around to find six new ones take its place. Your children are not grateful, they expect it of you - no matter how exhausted, sick or depressed you feel.
Being an unknown writer feels about the same. Unless you've struck it lucky and become famous, your work is not appreciated. You write every day (or as close to it as you can), you lose sleep - getting up extra early or staying up extra late to get some more writing finished after doing all the other things you have to do each day. As soon as one book is finished, you have multiple rounds of editing and critique to get through, re-reading your work over and over until you want to strangle all your characters and shred your book in a garbage disposal. No one cares that you've written a book - in fact, they probably look at you like you're nuts and your loved ones complain that you spent all your free time writing while there is a pile of dishes in the sink and laundry that needs to be folded - what the heck did you do all day?
Having kids is painful - literally and figuratively. Your childless friends stop talking to you and can't seem to understand when you can't go to their party or randomly meet up for drinks.
Writing is painful - you birth this creative world, create whole characters from your head, put them through hell... and love every minute of it. Your non-writer friends are sick of hearing you talk about your story - most of them will probably never read it - and they can't seem to understand why you'd rather play with the people in your head than come out to their party or randomly meet up for whatever.
If you've got both going on at the same time - you're pretty much screwed.
You're always exhausted. You get no sleep. You have little in the way of a social life. You spend all day talking to the imaginary characters in your head or talking to the mini-people that think the word "poop" is hysterical.
But to be perfectly honest - there is nothing in the whole world I'd rather do than play with my kids and write my books. So, in honor of Mother's Day, I'd like to say just how grateful I am that this is what I'm doing right now. I'm happier than I've ever been and I hope I can keep doing this for the rest of my life.
Happy Mother's Day.
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