The Creative Process in Action

Well, we seem to be done with the stomach bug. Ellie never got it (knock on wood, cross fingers, thank our lucky stars, etc.). All seems to be returning to as normal a state as you ever find around here.

I am finding it very hard to do much this morning. I told Bruce I was going to sit around and read all day, but I'm not even doing that. Rather, I've been ignoring Ellie and Evan unless cries erupt. Meanwhile, I've been floating through the house in a kind of detached daze.

Last night, I woke at 3am and decided it was a good time to put Ellie on the potty. Her success staying dry at night has been erratic. She has been waking early in the morning (sometimes before 6am), I think due to either having wet pjs, or being dry but having to potty badly. So, I figured an early morning visit to "The Pot" would fix both problems: dry in the morning and an empty bladder to boot.

It worked great except that, then I couldn't fall back asleep. My mind swung and danced around all kinds of different thoughts: needing to email info to the Anchorage Daily News so that they'll print info for our next M.I.L.K. meeting (still haven't done it); needing to start preparing for the next M.I.L.K. meeting; will Ellie ever throw-up or are we truly done?; what happens if my kids get bird flu?; I really need to start taking Sabrina more seriously; how am I going to get through another day with Evan getting into EVERYTHING? I only fell asleep after making up a movie in my head - one I thought had a great deal of potential for the big screen, starring Dennis Quaid, James Caan, and undecided about the female lead.

Ellie came into the bedroom at 5:30am with a bloody nose, just as I was finally drifting off. Bruce, veteran of many bloody noses, got up with her.

Ellie came in again at 6:45am, bright-eyed and sunny to tell me something which I couldn't hear due to my earplugs. I bellowed at her to leave.

A few minutes later, Sabrina came in to tell me something which I again couldn't hear due to earplugs. Again, I bellowed that she leave.

At 7:15am Bruce came out of the bathroom, all fresh and clean, and approached my side of the bed for a quick kiss good-bye. I bellowed at him to leave me the hell alone.

I finally got out of bed at 7:21 and started my day. While putting on makeup (a rarity over the past week) I suddenly had an epiphany: why not write a book about the "movie" I imagined in my head as I was trying to fall asleep the night before? It might become the next bestselling chick-lit book!

Now, I have to tell you, this exact same thing happened to me last spring. I daydreamed a plot, feverishly wrote 50-pages, then abandoned it because it was so embarrassing; truly sub-Danielle Steele. I was so discouraged I didn't write anything for three months.

So, here I am again, with another stupid idea that I just can't resist dropping everything to write about.

So, the kids are being neglected, the phone unanswered, the laundry undone. Evan is coloring on the walls while his poopy diaper goes unchanged. Is this what it's like to be a writer? It's crazy, it's erratic, it's an emotional pendulum!

I love it!