I went missing last week.
On my new blog Meals on Three Burners and A Word or More, there were no posts. That happens some Sundays.
Sometimes I do not make the deadline I set for myself. It happens.
The deadline is for stories, a book and poetry collection. Standards are high. I completed several rounds of editing Sons of the Edisto Saturday night. Last week, I completed editing Fractured Snowflakes. Those are deadlines I wanted to complete in early July.
Everything about the magical, diverse world of talented authors differs from what time we write, how we structure our stories, face rejection and who is in our life to make writing more of a challenge or to encourage.
Whether you deal with rejection or face not meeting your daily, weekly or monthly goal, certain reasons in our lives help distract you whether you need it or not.
On Saturday, Mom called me on the way back from my grandmother’s house.
“Are you going to make spaghetti tonight?”
In a guilty voice, I said, “No, I have a deadline I to make tonight.”
That deadline was to complete Sons of the Edisto.
Most nights I am in the kitchen. My son runs around and crashes into walls. He throws a baseball, which I climbed into a stream and got for him, and his aim is too good for a three-year-old. Anyone in the way ducks, and when the coast is clear, we take the baseball away. Later, I forget where I hid it, and the baseball returns to haunt me the next night.
Making meals is not a need, but a part of sharing in family responsibilities within a family of six. It is passionate hobby to distract me from a rejection or the pressure I’ve placed on myself for a deadline.
A creature from outer space called boy runs around, and we hope we do not have to send him to military school. During the family prayer at a family reunion, he tries to yell out he is hungry. My husband covers his mouth, and my father-in-law gives him a stern look. He points his crooked finger.
Sometimes Charles plays great independently. I will work at my desk in his room while he plays. At other times, he is right under foot. He lines his cars along the stove top. We quickly move them before I turn anything on.
This boy is the center of attention. I surrender the keyboard, turn off the keyboard and spend time with him before too much time passes. God willing, years are ahead of me. I will write and edit, but I have one little son playing in his rain boots now.
Fix the Bookshelf
I received one rejection from an agent and two rejections from literary magazines earlier this week. Rejections sting like a bee when you’re in the back of your dad’s truck. Not only do you get stung; you trip and fall off the truck bed.
You find a way to deal with it.
Lucky for me, Charles had put too many heavy books on his Cars bookshelf on Friday when I did not have to work. I spent twenty minutes fixing it and rearranging books. Next I did laundry while he played with his trains. This time away from the computer gave my mind something on which to focus.
Too Much Time on the Road
Last Sunday, my husband, tired from working six days on the roof of a farmer’s market says, “Let’s go see waterfalls.” We left late in the day. Writing was not a possibility, and we ended up with a squealing toddler who wanted to go deeper into the water. We held our heads up over our plates at Denny’s.
Pictures of Water Falls on the Blue Ridge Parkway, including Linville Falls
The author without make-up at 7 p.m. in front of the waterfall one day after carting her son across South Carolina. The next day we drive more than 300 miles through North Carolina. Crazy, yes.
By Rebecca T. Dickinson
The next Meals on Three Burners will post Monday night!