Joyce, on Writing
Joyce McDonald Hoskins
Working in your jammies. Most writers will admit itís one of the reasons they write. I can make money, do what I love, stay at home, and stumble to the computer with a cup of coffee when I awake in the morning.
Great, huh? I always wanted to do it, and now I can.
Reality sets in fast. The money is hard earned and slow to come. The interruptions are many. Phone, neighbors, family, even pets intrude into my world. But, when I am published, they will take me seriously. But they donít. I'm at home, and they will find me.
Surely a schedule will work. But it doesnít. Close the door, draw the shutters, theyíll still find me. And if they donít, I will actually interrupt myself. A second cup of coffee would be nice. Or maybe tea would be better. As I ponder I notice a houseplant desperate for water. I water it. I plug in the teapot. Coffee or tea? Tea with lemon.
Now Iím set. Computer booted up. Just right tea. Iíll write. But first Iíll check my email, and a couple of writerís message boards. Itís part of the business. Right? Oh no. No news from a publisher, or an editor. Depression sets in. Okay. One writerís message board and itís to work. That might be encouraging. But itís not. I open yesterday file and read. It was good yesterday, why is it such tripe today?
So, why do I do it?
For the love of writing.