I couldn't sleep last night because I was inspired. Every few minutes, between midnight and 2 a.m., I flicked the switch on my bedside lamp, squinting as the room filled up with harsh light. I couldn't risk losing the words. I've learned, after years of writing, that you have to capture those kinds of thoughts quickly. They are like lightning bugs. They flash and sparkle momentarily, but they will disappear if you don't cup them tightly in your hands or cram them into a jar--I like to think of my little red notebook as my lightning bug jar.
I know that my husband doesn't particularly like it when I have inspired nights. But he likes me a lot, so he has learned to sleep through the chaotic lamp show. He's my number one reader. He reads everything I write--even the bad stuff. I'm not sure if he has read any other books since college, so I believe him when he says that I'm his favorite author.
During the day, I'm a mom. I drive the kids to school and baseball practice and boxing lessons--yes, I gave in. They are boxing now. My husband says it's healthy for little boys to let out their aggression in the ring. I still think it's a horrible sport, if you can even call it a sport.
I read cookbooks and write my bi-weekly column on my laptop in the car while I wait for the boys to get out of practice. It isn't the most glamorous life, I know. I don't have a real office, unless you consider the desk in the basement an office. I dress up once a month for conferences or book signings, which is a nice escape into grown-up world. But most of the time, I'm just mom with a ponytail, proofreading pages for my new book when I have a rare minute.
The writing life isn't as fabulous as I thought it would be. After college, I had to write a lot of silly magazine articles and devotional blurbs to help pay the bills. But I reached my ultimate goal, I wrote my first book before the age of twenty-five. It was good. It had a cute cover. My parents were proud and stockpiled copies in their basement. When I read it now, all I can see are the typos and cliches. Sometimes I am my own worst critic.
After that book, I continued writing magazine articles, which led to a column assignment, which led to more book proposals. So now, here I am, writing my fourth book, waiting to pick up the boys from baseball practice. I'm a wife and a mom and a writer. I'm not famous or rich, but I am wonderfully happy.
Written for a Fall 2009 Sentence Strategies assignment: Write about yourself and your daily life as it might appear 10 years in the future.
