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Danielle Haas

Mother of two, Writer of romance novels, Lover of wine

Life is really funny sometimes. A few weeks ago I was feeling a little discouraged about where this writing thing was heading. I still enjoyed sitting down and creating my stories, and polishing my manuscripts. But would anything ever happen with it? I tried to tell myself to be patience, that I’m so new to this whole thing and it could take a lot longer than the nine months I’d been trying to get an agent/published for this to go anywhere. Even though what I was telling myself was completely logical, I still found myself doubting that I’d ever find a good fit for my first manuscript. Then something happened. My husband couldn’t find a copy of our marriage certificate, so I dug through a ton of paperwork to find what he needed. In the process, I found my career passport that I put together my senior year of high school. It had my diploma, a ridiculously inadequate resume, and a letter from my principle. The other piece of this passport was a letter I wrote detailing my plans for the future. In it I talked about attending Bowling Green State University, discussed what I planned to major in, and what career I would like to have. It was a trip looking back at this after so long.

The amazing thing to me was the last paragraph in this letter. “No matter what I decide to do, I am hoping that writing will be my main focus. I hope that I will be able to make a living off of it, while it remains something I enjoy doing.” Here’s the funny part, nothing else in this letter happened the way I planned. I didn’t major in creative writing, I didn’t study business, and I most certainly did not become a 6th grade English teacher. (What was I thinking?!) Instead, I changed my major countless times, studied political science and international studies, and I ended up with a meaningful job working with woman with developmental disabilities. But here I sit, close to 14 years later, and I still enjoy writing and hope to make it a career. This gave me the motivation to push forward and keep trying. Because if nothing else, I love what I do.

I decided to start focusing on getting my second manuscript out there. I checked over my agent list, polished up my query letter, and started submitting. My first manuscript could possibly still be published, but I’d given up the hopes that an agent would be interested in it . And then something amazing happened. I received a request for a full manuscript from  an agency I had queried in November. She wanted to read my first manuscript, start to finish. I sent it over immediately, and then proceeded to check my email twenty times a day for the next week. Last Thursday was one of those days I picked up my phone to check my email, and tears sprang to my eyes when I saw what was sitting in my inbox. An email from Ella Marie Shupe from Belcastro Agency asking to speak with me about the possibility of representation. WHAT?! I laughed, I cried, I jumped up and down. In short, I was the talk of the children’s museum that day and managed to embarrass the hell out of my daughter.

I had my phone call with Ella Marie early this week, and am beyond excited about her now being my agent. She understood my writing, and had ideas to take it from good to amazing. Her personality was lovely, and I have no doubt that we will work very well together. I can’t wait to get to work and see where this leads me. And even better, I can now sit here with my career passport from Paulding High School, and know that I did exactly what I set out to do so long ago. It just took a little voice from the past to push me along a little bit and remind me why I choose to sit down at my computer day in and day out. Because I love it, and the stories this crazy mind of mine makes up. I’m so lucky that I have found what I love to do in this life, and I know that no matter what the future holds, I was always enjoy my writing.

The Terrific Two’s

Last week was a very big week at our house. The biggest occasion being the celebration of Spud’s second birthday. It’s crazy to think that he’s a full-blown toddler now. I can no longer claim I have a baby in the house, even though I will still call him my baby boy. (Probably well into adulthood!) My littlest munchkin is full of love and happiness and pure orneriness. I’m not exaggerating when I say that everyone who meets him falls for his charm. Hell, in Mexico the kid learned how to flirt with the resort staff in Spanish. If that didn’t terrify me for his future, I’d be pretty impressed.  But of course, since he is the second child, I can’t help but think about how different his turning two was with Tootsie’s.

When Tootsie turned two my first thought was, “Thank God, no more diapers!” In my mind, her turning two meant she needed to be potty trained. The girl was brilliant, she could vocalize all her wants and needs, and there was no reason why she wouldn’t be able to conquer the use of the big girl potty with ease. No surprise here, I found out that I was an idiot. My daughter might be smart, but she’s also stubborn as hell. She had no desire to stop using a diaper, and nothing I did was going to change that. It was one of the most frustrating experiences of my life. I tried everything I could think of to bribe, I said bribe and I say it proudly, to get this kid on the toilet. Do you want to know what worked? Bringing home baby brother when she was two years and 8 months old. She wanted attention, so she decided to go on the potty. From that day on, she never wore another diaper. She knew when she was ready, and nothing I could do would get her there any faster.

With Spud, the thought of potty training does not fill me with excitement or an overwhelming desire to get the process started. I’m dreading it. It was only two short years ago that I went through this with Tootsie, and it sucked. Really bad. Now Spud has gone once or twice on the potty, mainly because he wants to be like his big sister. I ask him every now and then if he wants to use the big boy potty, and more often than not he refuses. I’m okay with this. The time will come when he decides to stop pooping his pants, and I’m sure no one (besides who we tell) will even know at what age this happens for him. Of course, I might have to push him out of his comfort zone a little to get the result I want, but hey, we all need that from time to time.

The celebration of Spuds second birthday happened the same week that I completed my second manuscript. I’m not talking finished the first draft and it still needs some tweaking. I have poured over this MS with my CP and have tightened and revised until I’ve polished it into something I absolutely love. I am so excited about this MS, and can’t wait to see what the future has in store for Meg and Dylan. However, I once again am comparing my second (literary) baby to my first. After my first MS was finished I couldn’t wait to get it out there to every agent and editor I could find. I was going to be one of those success stories who sends out her first MS and it’s an instant hit with everyone who reads it and agents are fighting over who gets to sign me. (Okay, you can all stop laughing at me now haha)

It’s no secret this is not what happened. Instead, I spent hours researching who to query and how to query. I wrote and rewrote my query letter and synopsis, and I received rejection after rejection after rejection. I’m not going to lie, I cried a lot. It was devastating to put out this MS that I loved so much and to not have anyone else love it too. Of course, I’ve learned over time that some emails that seemed like rejections were blessings in disguise, and I still have a chance to get this first MS that I love published. But, the process has been hard and long and a pain in the ass.

So now I sit here looking at yet another MS that I love. The research has been completed and the query and synopsis are ready to go. It’s time, once again, to send it out to the world. And just like with potty training my little Spud Muffin, it’s not a process I’m excited about starting. I know it’s something I have to do, but I kind of want to sit here with this shiny new MS a little while longer and tell myself the lies I’m not naïve enough to believe anymore. Even if just for another few days. I also know that just like with Spud, there’s only so much I can do to make this process successful. I’ve done my part, and now it’s up to someone else to pick up the second part of this act. Until then, I guess I’ll pick up where I left off with MS number 3 and wait for two small miracles to happen.

To Blessed To Be Stressed

Today has not gone exactly the way I planned. I woke up and helped my husband get the house ready for company, and then I planned on taking my daughter shopping. I wanted to get home with enough time to make sure the house was in order, get a little work done, and possibly relax a bit before the crazy New Year’s festivities. You know, the kind were you hang out with your in-laws and watch football. Well, I guess if OSU loses, things could get a little nuts in this house.

But, I guess that you can see where this is heading. My plan did not work out. Well, it did up until the point that Tootsie and I put our treasures from Target in the back of my car, and I closed my trunk before I grabbed my keys. Yep, that’s right, I locked my keys in the car. I have never in my life locked my keys in my car! I called my husband, but you see he was home with our sleeping little Spud Muffin. And even if Spud was awake, my husband had no car seat with him to bring Spud to Target with my keys. Tootsie immediately freaked out, tears gathered in her eyes, and she of course assumed we were, “Never going to be able to go home, ever!”

Really 2016? This is how we’re going to go out? You’re going to leave me stranded at Target with my dramatic four-year-old who thinks we never again see her beloved home. I took a breath, forced a smile, and told her I’d buy her cake pop. Magically, the tears disappeared. We walked back in to wait for back-up, and I promptly bought a cake pop, one juice, and one very large coffee. We sat down and waited. And as we waited, I looked at my daughter and realized how incredibly blessed I am. As I was told recently, I’m too blessed to be stressed (Shout-out to Lauren here!) I had been given a rare opportunity to  sit down with my daughter and just enjoy her company. I had no where to go, no work to be done, and my phone was pretty much dead. We sat and we talked and we laughed.

I thought back on where 2016 had led me, and I realized that this has happened a lot. I’ve had plans that haven’t worked out, and the disappointment and rejection  has led me to some amazing places. I planned on starting a new hobby and 2016 saw me completing my fist manuscript. I didn’t get an agent after months of submissions, and my eagerness to learn led me to RWA and NEORWA, which has shown me new friendships and a support system full of fellow writers I never knew existed. I didn’t get into PitchWars, who cares! Instead I found an amazing critique partner who has to be better than any mentor I could have ever imagined, and has become one of my closest friends. I didn’t get a contract from a publisher, but I ended up receiving the most amazing feedback that not only improved my first manuscript, but my second one as well. And I still have another opportunity to impress the editor and hopefully get published in 2017.

So, when I look back over the last  year, it’s amazing to see how bad I am at making plans. Okay, so that might not be exactly true. But I have learned that it’s true what they say, when one door closes another one opens. Or, as I personally believe, God has a plan and all I have to do is put in the work and follow the path He has opened for me. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me in 2017!

Happy New Year everyone!!

 

 

 

The Greatest Gift

Once again the holiday season is upon us. I must admit, whenever Christmas starts showing it’s shiny, white head I get as giddy as my two-year-old when he sees Thomas the Train. I just love it, love everything about it! I always have, and I’m pretty sure I always will. I have about a dozen movies that are brought out and dusted off every year, and I’m the annoying person who wants to put up the tree and decorations long before Thanksgiving. I love how the snow is still magical and everyone seems a little bit nicer. Now that I have kids, Christmas is even more amazing. There are even more movies to be watched and traditions to be started. One of the best ones we’ve started is every year on Christmas Eve, we bake a birthday cake together. It’s so easy for the kids to be sucked up into the presents and looking forward to  Christmas for all the wrong reasons. Don’t get me wrong, presents are awesome. But, so is cake. And if you want two small children to pay attention to something other than presents, putting a homemade cake (ok, so it’s from a box) in front of their cute little faces is a pretty good way to do it. We sit around the table, lights blazing on top of the cake, and sing happy birthday to Jesus. It’s a wonderful time together, and that’s what Christmas is all about.

Even though the cake is delicious and our traditions are plentiful, presents are what my kids can’t stop talking about. Seriously, if I have to hear, “Mommy, look at that. I want that for Christmas!” one more time I just might scream. Every commercial, every toy in the toy aisle, every playdate…these are the words that pour out of my daughter’s mouth. It’s getting old. We’re trying to explain to her that the best gifts aren’t the ones that you get at the store. They are thoughtful gifts that money doesn’t necessarily buy. My mom gave me one of these gifts over the weekend. My mom has read all three books that I have written (ask and I’m sure she will tell you how great they all are, ha!)  Unbeknownst to me, she printed off several pages from each manuscript and used the pages to make beautiful, homemade ornaments. I was floored! These ornaments will hang on my tree for years to come, and they will always remind of me of how I got started writing romance novels. These three manuscripts will always hold a special place in my heart, and now on my tree as well. She went a step further and made a homemade doll house out of an old dresser for Tootsie. She was a living example to my kids of how using your heart rather than your wallet is the best way to show people how much you love them.

Tootsie must have been taking notes. She has been talking non stop about what gifts she can give to her friends. She can make a finger painting for our neighbor lady, she can give her best friend one of her teacups for her to use with her baby doll, and she wants to write a book for her mommy. I don’t think my heart could have possibly gotten any fuller when she told me this. One of the hardest parts of writing for me hasn’t been making sure my word count is high enough or my plot moves along seamlessly. It has been getting past the mommy guilt that rears its ugly head every time I sit at my computer while my daughter is left to her own devices. Writing has affected my life greatly, and in extremely positive ways, but it’s also affected hers. Before I had my son (and started writing) my days were dedicated to her and only her. Now, please understand that she’s an extremely independent child who likes to have her own space and time, so this didn’t mean I was glued to her side all day every day. It did mean that we had a ton of one-on-one time filled with fun activities. Then came baby brother. We both had to navigate the murky waters of learning to go from a one child household, to one with two kids. She’s been amazing with her brother from day one, and I have made sure to dedicate nap times to giving her that special mommy/daughter time we both needed.

Enter writing. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Words just poured out of me when I sat down at my computer, and I craved the time to sit and write. Now, with two small kids time is very limited for a mom to do mom things. This time was, and still is, carved out during my sons nap time and when the kids go to bed. Good for Spud and Mom, not so much for Tootsie. I’ve struggled to find a good balance between giving her the time she needs and giving myself the time  I need. I know this isn’t a new struggle for a mom to have, but it’s been a new one for me. And I’ve feared that it’s been a struggle I’ve been failing. So when Tootsie told me she wanted to write me a book, the guilt I constantly carry with me melted away a bit. It melted even more when she sat down with a blank piece of paper and drew an amazing picture and told her dad what she wanted her book to say. When she said she wanted to learn to write so she can write her own words, I almost cried. When she said she wanted to be a writer when she grows up like mommy, I did cry. To be fair, in the same sentence she said she also wanted to be a teacher, a ballerina, and a nail designer. What can I say, the girls got gumption.

So, it turns out that my teeny, tiny little girl may want us to buy her every toy ever created for Christmas, but she also knows exactly what giving a gift that truly matters really means. It means she uses her heart to figure out what would mean the most to the people she loves in this world. It means giving selflessly of your time, and your things, for the benefit of others. Sure, she might be getting too many presents this year, but I’d like to think I’ve given her something special this year as well. Something that she will carry with her for years to come and always remember. I hope I’ve shown her it’s important to make sure she tries her hardest to do her best for the people she loves, even if she thinks she’s failing. I hope I’ve given her the knowledge that it’s always important to be true to herself and the talents God gave her. Even if that means she’s teaching writing while dancing ballet with her pretty nails.

Happy Holidays!

 

 

 

Milestones and Margaritas

Today marks a huge milestone in my professional life. I was asked to give my very first interview as an author. I was nervous, I was convinced I would have nothing worthwhile to say, and when the time came I nailed it.

At least I’m sure that’s what all the kids will tell their parents when they go home from school today.

You see, my friend asked me to talk to her fourth grade class about my writing and my journey to publication. She said her class was really excited to talk to a real author. I wasn’t sure how to respond. What in the world would I have to say to a bunch of nine-year-olds? I haven’t accomplished anything worth talking about. I have no wisdom to impart on the youth of America. These kids were going to be extremely disappointed when they come to class and have me waiting to answer their questions.

But, one of my best friends had asked me to do her a favor and, I have to admit, my feathers were preening a little at being referred to as a real author. So, I agreed. We set up a time, I got a sitter for my kids, and I waited for her call. (She lives in sunny Southern California, I’m currently freezing my butt off in Ohio.)

And do you know what? It was one of the sweetest, cutest things I’ve been a part of. I sat in the comfort of my own kitchen (kid free to boot) and watched as kid after kid walked up to the screen and asked me a question. I saw silliness, nervousness, and excitement over reading their questions off their sheets and getting a chance to talk to me. And the best part, I was actually able to answer all of their questions. I have come a hell of a long way from where I started and I’ve learned a ridiculous amount. I might not be the most accomplish author they could have interviewed (ok, so I’ve never even been published), but they could have cared less. I was still able to share my story, impart just a wee bit of knowledge , and hopefully show at least one kid today that if you work hard and follow your dreams, it can lead you some place really special.

My big important first author interview might not seem like the biggest feather to place in your cap. But for me, it was a milestone worth celebrating. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past year and a half, it’s that you need to celebrate even the tiniest of victories. So tonight, when the kids are snuggled in their beds, this book writing, interview giving, mama of two is going to settle back and toast those pint sized little boogers in California who helped show me that I do in fact know my shit. Margaritas on the rocks for everyone. (Ok, so it will probably just be drinking one, but I’m completely alright with that.)

Revise, Rewrite, Recycle?

Well, I’ve currently found myself in a situation I never thought possible. I’m sitting on a plane and my four year old is quietly playing with her tablet and snacking on potato chips and my 22 month old is peacefully dozing on papaws lap. This is awesome except for one thing, I wasn’t prepared to entertain myself for three hours. I have a bag packed full of snacks, books, puzzles, and stickers. Everything you could think of for two small children to pass the time. Not one thing for mama. So, I figure I might as well write a blog post.

Last week I felt the quick thrill of validation with an amazing contest score. This week I was back to the crushing defeat of rejection. I’ll admit, the rejection was much easier to take while sitting on a beach in Mexico with a margarita in my hand, but it still sucked. It got my mind thinking, how do you know when you when you need to revise, rewrite, or just recycle and move on? 

I think it’s clear to anyone who has written a manuscript that it always needs revisions. At least everyone who has written and then maneuvered through the writing world and had their eyes opened to all the work that goes into really polishing your work. I know I’ve made several revisions now and am so happy with where I am. But what if you still haven’t turned the heads you want to turn? When do you go from revision to rewrite? My CP has gone to this stage and I told her it makes me feel physically sick to think about starting my story over. To keep the main plot and flow, but just start over with a blank page and rework the whole thing?? Enter panic attack! I’ve sent out some more submissions in the last couple of weeks, and I’ve gotten back one rejection that came with some good insight. But it’s not the kind of insight that can just be worked into the existing MS, I’d have to do a lot of rewriting of work that I’m kind of in love with. At what point do you stop seeing your original vision and story and just write what other people ask of you?

I’m not an idiot, I realize there are industry standards and a way to write in which the readers expectations are met. The reason these exists, and agents and editors go by them, is because it’s a formula that works well. And has worked for years.  I want my MS to fit that mold to a certain extent, but what if it doesn’t? And worse yet, what if it never will?

I’m currently working on revising my second MS, and I feel almost guilty saying I think it’s better than the first. It’s widely said that you need to keep writing because the more you write the better you get. While writing my second MS, I knew right away it was better work. My voice was a little clearer and I had started to figure out a better way to plot out my story. I’ve had a few people who have read both MS’s, and I think they’d all agree with me. Maybe this second MS will be the one that turns heads, but what does that mean I do with the first? Just recycle it? 

This may sound silly, but I feel like if I did that, I’d be giving up on Jonah and Jillian. I love these characters like real people, and I love the story they tell. To recycle their love story would be like saying they don’t matter anymore, and that makes me sad. So what to do?

No really, I’m asking, what do I do? How did other writers realize it was time to move past one baby to concentrate on the next? When did you understand that rewriting was a scary step that you had to take? Or how did you know in your gut that you had something worth sharing and you had to keep fighting hell or high water to get it out there?

Sorry if this post has a rambling edge to it. Turbulence has a way of making my mind wander! Also, the picture doesn’t have much to do with the post. But if I’m talking about being on a place, I might as well share a picture of the paradise I left behind!

The Nature Of The Beast

There are a few phrase I’ve been introduced to since I’ve started writing and trying to get published. I’m sure every other person out there who is writing have heard these, and I’m sure you all groan and mutter under your breath a few choice words when you hear them. One that I’ve heard over and over again is that writing is subjective. Ugh! It makes me want to pull my hair out!

I never realized how much I crave validation until I put my writing out there to be judged. Validation, I’m somewhat ashamed to say, is something I’ve never had to actively seeked. I’ve never had to because it’s always been freely given to me. Whether it was my grades, my work, my relationship-I’ve always had someone telling me I’m doing a great job. In school I always got good grades. Whenever I was working, my job performance was usually remarked upon and rated highly. My husband has always made me feel loved, and even though there are low point in motherhood I know I have two great kids who are well-behaved and happy. That doesn’t happen by accident. I know I’ve done a great job in these areas of my life because, well, people have told me so. I take pride in this. I am a hard worker and am dedicated to giving my best in everything I do.

But somehow, I now find myself craving validation that I haven’t been able to find. I feel like my daughter who is constantly saying, “Look at me mom! Aren’t I doing a great job!” Yes honey, you are so good at standing on one foot. I’ve never seen anyone ever do it that well.

I’ve been on a bit of a contest binge lately. I’ve entered PitchWars, PitchSlam, PitMad, and Nightmare on Query Street all within the last couple months. I also entered a writing contest through RWA. I have not gotten into any of them. Ive met great people, I’ve received some nice words of encouragement, and even  gotten a little validation that I’m on the right path with changes I’ve made. I’ve gotten so close…but still so far away. And through it all I’ve heard over and over and over, please remember writing is subjective.

Today I had a breakthrough. I didn’t win a contest, I didn’t land an agent. Instead, I was sent an email with my judging scores to a contest I entered last month. I’ve heard this particular contest is judged pretty harshly, and I can’t say I was surprised when I wasn’t a finalist. But I was interested to see what the judges had to say. The first judge (a contestant finalist) had some very nice words, as well as good suggestions on making improvements. My scores were slightly above average in all categories, and my overall score was a 34.5 out of 45. I was good with this. The second judge (An RWA pro and trained judge) made very little comments in my entry. I opened my score sheet expecting them to be low. There were wonderful comments about how she didn’t want to stop reading and would highly recommend my work to a friend. She loved it! My score…45 out of 45!

Here it was, subjective judging smacking me in the face! Two industry professionals looking at the exact same thing. One of them liked it but thought it needed improvement, and one of them freaking loved it! My first scores were good (at least in my eyes) but my second scores were amazing! I felt validation rushing through me. Finally! I might not have been a finalist in the contest, but I knew one judge would have at least liked me to be.

So what does this one score from a random judge really mean to my writing career? Didly squat! But, it gave me a boost of confidence I’ve been desperately needing. I’m going to ride this rush of excitement as far as it will take me, maybe all the way to publication.

It’s All Worth It In The End

My daughter has hit the age where she now asks for every single toy she sees on commercials. Not just commercials on the TV, but also the silly videos she likes to watch on YouTube. It’s driving me crazy! The rule in our house has always been no presents unless it’s your birthday, Christmas, or a special occasion. This has worked well, and has eliminated the problem of having her beg for toys every time we go somewhere. This is no longer the case. My husband and I have decided to implement a new system where she can earn her own money, and can then buy whatever she wants with what she earns. There are now two glass jars sitting in my kitchen. One is filled with the sparkly buttons she picked out, the other is Tootsie’s jar. Every chore she completes, every dinner she eats (Dinner time has turned into a nightmare lately!), and every kind gesture she makes earns her one button for her jar. Each button equals 25 cents, and can be cashed in at the end of the week. Also, bad behavior and bad choices result in losing a button.

So far, this system has been awesome! She has eaten her dinner without complaint and is constantly trying to find new ways to make money. I’m a little afraid we have created a monster. She wants a button for plugging in her IPod, for grabbing cheese from the fridge, or cleaning off the exact same spot on her rocking chair. We still have a few wrinkles to iron out. But the one thing that stands out in my minds is how hard she is trying to earn these buttons so she can then buy what she wants. And she’s happy to do it. She might not enjoy doing the chores or being so nice to her brother, but she knows it’s going to be worth it in the long run.

I recently finished a major rewrite on my first MS. I had received amazing feedback from a senior editor from a small publishing house, and I needed to make some changes before I resubmitted to her. God decided to do me a solid and put me in the path of someone who would become an invaluable CP and a great friend. She worked with me for a couple months to turn the story that I love into a book I am completely proud of. The edits were beyond time consuming and just plain hard. Day after day, night after night, I popped my chapters up on my computer and worked. I felt like my kids weren’t getting the attention they deserved, my dog needed a walk, and my house was the dirtiest it’s been. If I would have known how hard it was to get my MS into the shape it needed to be in, I admit I don’t know if I would have started the process at all. But now that it’s done, I realize how amazing it was!

Not only is my MS SOOO much better, but I learned so much! Going forward, I know things to do or not to do in my writing. I’ve learned how to critique other people’s work in return, and most importantly I’ve learned that it’s not selfish for me to take the time I need to better myself and my work. If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy right? A question was brought to my attention recently regarding how my husband views my writing. Does he look at what I do as a hobby or as a business venture? Scott being Scott, he couldn’t just answer the damn question. He told me that he liked it better when I treated my writing like a hobby. He said when I wasn’t so concerned with getting published, I seemed happier. He said I wasn’t so stressed out and so consumed with editing and improving my MS, and that I seemed to enjoy it more when I was in the moment and just working on creating the story that’s brewing in my mind.

He’s right (Yes babe, if you’re reading this, I admit it), I am the happiest when I’m just working on my WIP. When I’m just pounding the keys without a care in the world for how it’s coming it. But, I could never even imagine how satisfied and proud I would be after spending so much effort on polishing up something I already loved so much. Just like Tootsie and her buttons, the work that’s not always the most fun is made tolerable when you knowing it’s going to pay off in the end. Even if the payoff is only a 25 cent button.

 

How the hell do you do it all?

I’m sitting in the bathroom while watching my son play in the bathtub. I am silently praying he doesn’t poop, yet again, in the tub as I sit here typing on my computer. You see, that’s exactly what he did a few weeks ago when I was trying to get him washed, enter PitchSlam, pack myself and both children up for the weekend, and leave my house on time to pick my daughter up from preschool. My little Spud Muffin decided it would be the perfect time to poop in the bathtub so I could add bleaching the tub and cleaning his toys to my ever increasing list of things to accomplish.

I logged on here today and was shocked when it told me my last post was made 23 days ago. 23 days?! I was doing so well there for awhile. Once a week I was on here, making sure to put my insightful words of wisdom down for all to read. Then bam, 23 days go by and I haven’t so much as wondered what my next post would be about. Life happened and I just haven’t had the time or desire to figure it out.

For the first time since I had my daughter over four years ago, I feel like there’s not enough time in the day to get things done. Where once my house was spotless and my child was given fun and intellectual activities to do all day, I now I see a house that is in desperate need of cleaning and a daughter who watches way too much YouTube. I have a MS that needs revising, I have CP’s who are sending me chapters to go over, and I have a WIP that has lain dormant for months now. I simply can’t do it all. If I give my attention to one area, I feel like I’m neglecting another. And yet nothing seems to be getting the time it needs. It’s a little overwhelming.

I know this is not a new feeling, but it’s a new feeling for me. I don’t like it. But I know I need to get used to it. Before I started writing, my life was completely and 100% devoted to being the best mother and wife I could possibly be. I still want to be the best in those areas, but now a new area is sneaking into the forefront of my mind. I want to be the best writer I can be, I want to be the best CP I can be to the amazing people who are giving their time and expertise to me as well. I want to get published. I want to be successful. I want to have it all and I want to do it all. I’m lucky that I have a husband who supports me in this and doesn’t complain about cooking a meal here and there, or helping out around the house. (Ok, maybe he mentions the ironing haha) I’m also lucky to have two children who are very self-reliant and can occupy themselves when mommy needs to get stuff done. I just hope one day they grow up and see how much mommy worked to fulfill every dream she had, not the days she turned on YouTube and let them rot their brains.

Maybe one day I’ll figure out how to get all my ducks in a row and devote all the time I need to in all the areas in my life. Maybe one day I’ll just get a nanny to entertain my kids for a few hours while I work and it will ease the guilt a bit. For now, I’m just happy there’s no poop in the bathtub.

 

 

 

 

 

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