It’s still not clear to me how I possibly thought that the arrival of my third child signaled the perfect time to embark on a freelance writing career. I think it was more likely a leap of desperation than one of faith. One of those, if not now – when moments that most of us who have kids know all too well.
I could easily see my writing career was devolving into a detailed diary of the minutiae of an overbooked life.
I wanted to write. I’d been waiting to write since I picked up my first crayon. I wasn’t certain I’d be any good, but I had to know. This could not be something that I wondered about for the rest of my life.
So – into my already bursting life, I added a wee complication. I became a WriterMom. If you understand this insanity, you are no doubt a kindred woman. I’m pleased to know you!