"How To Find The Time To Write"

I have always wanted to be a writer. Since I was a little girl and got my first journal from my dad at Barnes and Nobles. We were out for the day, (I couldn't have been more then eleven) and we stopped into the bookstore. This was my very first time in this store and let me tell you. The feeling was magical to me, and to this day it still is. It was my father's birthday, and something had made me want to check that store out.

We had been in every other one around the shopping mall and in the mall itself. (That was kind of our thing on weekends. Go for walks and window shop.) The high ceilings, the smell, the quiet whispers of everyone discovering a new world were something I'd never experienced walking into anywhere. I was in awe. I see people on couches drinking coffees from the shop on their laptops or glancing through the pile of books next to them that they might buy.

I thought the fact that this wasn't just a store, it was a special haven for readers and writers to be at comfort away from home. A place that they felt…well, the way I did upon walking in. The further we got into the weaves and swerves of isles of books something made me stop. The shelf was aligned with the most beautiful and perfectly made journals and writing materials I'd ever seen. It was like looking at art to be honest.

You see at my age (then) I had been writing in spiral one or two subject notebooks and thought because I had gel pens, I was something special. And I know it's not what you're writing in, it's that you are writing at all. But something about these journals that some stickers even read "hand threaded" made it seem like my writing might just be more magical if the journal I was writing in was too.

One specific journal caught my eye. A brown Sweid with leather strap that could lock. Embroiled was a golden bow arching upward ready for takeoff. (Some food for thought- before I studied or knew about astrology or horoscopes or even signs, *mine being the Sagittarius which she holds a bow as well. Just thought that was kind of cool.)

Now as a writer, adult and single parent, I still buy my journals there and some books when I need to feel a book in hand and not on a screen. I always thought to myself If I could get even a few hours a day to go there and write, I'd be able to finish my novel.

Being a writer and raising children with another person is hard, but when it's just you and them. Finding the time seems nearly impossible. I started wondering if there was a reason for this memory or thought to still cross my mind like it just happened. Is the universe telling me something? Should I try and find a way to go there and write just to see what comes of it?

But what if it does work? How will I find the time to go when needed? I do not have the extra money for a sitter for the amount of time and days I'd need to be there. Bringing them with me would defeat all and every purpose. (Though, I do plan to bring them at some point and hope to share a little of what is so special to me.) I know a lot of you may be thinking it's just a bookstore woman! Trust me I hear you, but to me it is the day my dad bought me that journal when it was his birthday and that feeling of magic drains away as we get older, and it's a sad thing. I mean, why not bring that feeling back even for just a few moments? If we as writer could all go back to when our imagination was what it was at that age, I think the books and their ideas would be endless without the cliches we sometimes have no choice but to use. 

I know this article might have veered left to right, and back some what. But my main point is finding my groove. And how. All I read about and know from experience is WRITE WRITE WRITE.. but what if I CAN'T CAN'T CAN'T? I have tried ya'll! I have told I am not to be disturbed. I have made a little corner for my pc/iPad with my notes. I have shut off my devices and Wi-Fi while doing this except for my Microsoft 365 to look back on things I need. And I get nothing worth anything done at all. Or as soon as I get into a rhythm where I feel I might be on to something; I am interrupted by a scream, cry, yelling, things breaking (yes, my kids have house training lol. But they are still kids.) 

How am I supposed to expect them to understand in order for us to make it out of this small apartment at some point and buy a home, or that dreams are there for the taking if I can't even reach them? Do I say…Well it it wasn't for you kids being kids, I'd of been up there? Hell no. Because It's my responsibility to figure this out. And Lord, am I trying. And seem to be failing miserably. 

I have SO many good ideas for books, articles, blogs. And that is because I have barely had the time to actually get those ideas in words and out into the world. Am I just fighting a losing battle? Is this something I should of waited to start until they grew up? I am getting really discouraged in this journey. A journey I've wanted more then I've wanted anything….ever. My first article published on here and vocal media- even with the small amounts of reads. Felt like such a big accomplishment. It gave me that miniscule of hope that little at a time and I'll get it done. But one article here and there is a mountain of a difference then a novel. Which is what I really and truly want. 

Am I crazy to think I can do this? Am I being selfish knowing that I am all they have and I need to put aside a good chunk of time to do this for me and them? This article without a doubt veered into a different direction then intended but maybe it's what I really needed to say, to let out. I'd love any and all feed back. I just need a sign or some type of show of possibility that it is possible, even without the resources some say "a writer must have." Is waiting to be a writer for the right time better when that chance may turn into never. Or is it better to do whatever you can even if it means getting nothing truly done time and time again.