A few days ago I posted on twitter the following:
That’s the sort of day I’ve had today. First, D woke up at 6.30am. Then A spent the whole morning ‘being hungry’ but not wanting anything. Then E came home from school and spent most of the afternoon crying for one reason or another, followed by D being fussy all evening. It’s a miracle that I managed to do any writing, but I dread to think the quality of it. When I get to editing, I will probably get to what I have written today and tell myself ‘ah, yes, that was that day’, because it will be exponentially shittier than the rest. If you ever wonder why there is a higher proportion of male writers than female, well, this is why. As I read On Writing by Stephen King (very recommendable, by the way), I clearly remember thinking ‘yeah, but who’s watching the kids?’ Because wouldn’t we all love to lock ourselves in an office and write for a couple of hours undisturbed.
I could, of course, go back to what I used to do before and write at night, but I just find myself too tired. And that’s when I like to read as well, although I usually try to do some reading when I managed five minutes to go to the loo, during the day.
Add to that back pain, residual carpal tunnel syndrome from the pregnancy (which is not conducive to typing, let me tell you) and overall life… well, in a scale of Armageddon and Best Day of my Life, at best today was ‘meah’.
But you might be thinking: ‘well, Caroline, I thought you were going to try to be more positive.’ On days like this, allow me to vent, because otherwise I might need to get a large vodka, and becoming an alcoholic is not the point of the exercise. There are days like this and, I think, accepting them and letting them go is part of the battle.
The problem of these sort of day is that they get really busy and hectic and non-stop and tiring, but at the end of it you don’t have much to tell about it. This said, I thank you for your friendly ear (eyes) and I am going to work on a book review I’ve meant to write for a while.