I'm still here.
I just haven't been housewifing very well. Hence the lack of blog posts.
See, one of the things that has happened this year is that I've started making up crazy stories in my head again. I haven't done this for quite some time, but running around delivering newspapers at 4 AM actually gives your brain a lot of time to fly free, and when mine flies free it starts making up stories featuring fictional characters.
So when November came around, I decided to try something a little different, and actually write one of my crazy all-in-my-head stories. Unlike what I imagine a Good Novel to be, these are more like a cross between Gone With the Wind and something VC Andrews would put out. Hence why they stay in my head and entertain me when I'm bored. It has occurred to me that there is probably some similarity between my doing this and my 5-year-old running around the house muttering to himself for hours at a time, fighting imaginary... whatevers. I discussed this with the husband and he assured me that no, everyone does not go around inventing characters in their minds while they do the dishes. So, I figure I might as well put them out on paper and see what happens.
I don't know yet if this is a good or a bad thing. My not-literary-masterpiece stories are approximately 80 times more fun to write and edit than the stuff I was trying to write before, and I don't think they're that much worse. This means that I spend easily several hours a day writing. The first story rapidly soared past meeting my NaNoWriMo word count goal, and I was even excited to edit it.
But actually enjoying writing means that I have to drag myself away from it to do all that housewifey stuff like making dinner or going shopping. Or parenting stuff like entertaining my 1-year-old. So... it's kind of taking over my life, like Candy Crush once did.
I've also let the bathroom kind of stagnate in its half-renovated state for two months now.
Ultimately, I'm just not sure if what I'm doing counts as work or not. Am I being lazy? Selfish? It feels like too much fun to be sending my fictional friends on adventures. I hope I can justify continuing this endeavor by editing one of their stories into something that makes a dime or two.
I must go now, to prevent the baby from writing all over the house in red ink. He's just made some sort of illegible entry on our family fridge calendar.
Then, I'll probably see how I can get my new set of characters to kiss. Unfortunately, I don't think they're going to get there today...
