I woke up this morning with an idea for a blog. Okay, the truth is, I was lazing in bed with my eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, making lists as an excuse for staying in bed, when the idea arrived. But the point is, I had an idea. And I wrote it down. Over two and a half hours ago.
Motivated, well-behaved writers would head immediately for the computer. In all fairness, that was my plan. I picked up my journal, in which I had sketched out my blog draft, and headed downstairs, where my almost-twelve-year-old daughter was on the computer - my computer.
No problem. I'm the parent. I am strong, I am invincible, I am Writer Mama. I can tell her to get off the computer, Mom needs to write.
But she spoke first. "Mom, can we go to the pancake breakfast?"
I looked again. She was dressed. Her hair was brushed and pulled back in a ponytail. Said pancake breakfast was a fund-raiser for the music program.
"You'll really like it. Dad and I already went."
Ah, the perfect out. My husband had already made our family's contribution to the music program.
But my daughter was inviting me. For the moment, I was not only cool enough to be seen with in public, she actually wanted to go with me. And unlike our trips to the mall, it would cost only $5.
Sigh. Good thing I'd put that rough draft in writing.
And she was right - I did like it. Saturday morning with my daughter, her pancake breakfast my leverage for a Starbucks run afterward. Running into colleagues and former students and giggling in the rain in the parking lot. I would write when I got home.
But, when I got home, there was laundry. Oh, and email. And had I checked my farm on Facebook? Ah, yes. Step one in my writing process - procrastination.
A long-overdue email and quick FB stop later, here I am. I got a late start, but I'm writing. I've had breakfast and Starbucks. I've socialized and procrastinated. I've emailed, and now I've blogged.
And maybe tomorrow, you'll get to read the blog I wrote this morning.