A good question

I have no clue why I keep this blog. I know why I started it--I had every good intention of recording my writing journey, my woes and break-throughs. It hasn't quite worked out that way, has it? Between mothering four children, remodeling for four months and trying to keep my house from imploding from the weight of 15 batches of laundry per week, I have been overwhelmed. Swamped. For a while there I thought I was drowning.

But I kept the tip of my nose above the seas of chaos, kept breathing, and am writing again. It's such a joy to my soul. I love having something that is mine-all-mine, something to work on, to create. I love the giddiness of opening my Mac to find words, my words, staring back at me and begging for revision. I love the little thrill that zips down my arms when I realize I've molded a scene into something truly good. My novel is not beautiful, heart-rending prose a la Keats, it is a YA novel full of angst and shallowness, but within the characters a depth is unfolding. I love writing about teenagers. They are so self-absorbed, yet teachable and constantly experiencing defining moments. Casey and Ezra are in the same boat. They're seniors trying to swim out of the communist society of high school--the society that has jammed them into roles they aren't ready to accept.

I recently realized I'd spoken to an illustrator friend about doing some drawings for my chapter headings nearly a year ago.  That realization was a bit discouraging, but I am forging on. And really enjoying the process again, come mountains of laundry or vomiting children.