Leave Me Alone and Let Me Write

I'm struggling this morning. I was home with sick kids last week and I'm finding it tough to get myself back into the swing of classes again. I would much rather be writing than going to class.

I returned back to school to get my degree so I could focus on my writing unfortunately I feel too often I'm spending far too much time concentrating on someone else's writing.

Don't get me wrong; I love the classes I'm taking. I have felt inspired, energized and my writing is stronger and richer than it's ever been. I'm not sure I would have reached this point in the craft if I toiled away in isolation but I'm not writing as much as I would like to be.

Daily I am blessed with ideas for nonfiction books, short stories, novels, poems and essays. I keep a notebook filled with ideas hoping that by writing them down I can maintain their energy. Then I go back to cobbling a few minutes here and there to work on any one project. There are some days I don't write at all between running a household of children and an elderly mother plus classes and deadlines.

Since my mother moved in with us, I don't even have a place to escape to write. My dream-office is now her bedroom. I'm like an addict when it comes to writing. When I don't write, I start craving. I find myself writing in my head, through the middle of conversations and lectures. I can still process what is being said and I can retain an incredible amount of information but this other part of my brain is off in the netherworld. This only gets me so far. I need to get all these words out or else I become one cranky creature.

I cut my schedule down to two classes this semester which gave me two free days off to write while my youngest is in pre-school. I head straight to the study room on campus with my computer and food and I only get up to stretch or for bathroom breaks. But most of that "free" time is spent on assignments for classes- researching, setting up interviews, or meeting with fellow classmates on a project. I enjoy this but my own writing is languishing.

I have class in less than an hour but I'm torn because I know I'll be there but my heart won't. I'll be longing to be elbow deep in my novel. I know when I get home from school the duties of mother and chief cook and bottle washer will take over. Maybe I'll get a run in to keep my sanity but I doubt I'll have that much needed uninterrupted time I crave to write.