Writing vs Life

Life is just a tad on too fast for me, sometimes. I haven't updated this blog 'o mine in a while. I'm busy trying to write, but I've lost control of my faculties. I'm finding the notion of writing distinct chapters for Mythos has gone out the door, through the snow, into the decorative grass (read: weeds) at the edge of the yard, and disappeared. I've got no idea how much I've written since the last chapter, but I know it's way more than a Mythos chapter can stand. When I post the next Birth of a Novel entry, I'll definitely elaborate.

In between all this, work has intervened. I'm an IT dude, and sometimes I get called. I've received a few calls of late. Darn! I swore to myself I would never, ever, ever talk about the day job here. This is my writing space. Phooey. That's it. Done with the work thing on the blog. Kaput. No more. Really, I'm just using it as an excuse for not getting enough writing done. You know - the writing thing? The thing I love to do and want to do and would give my left [insert body part] to do full time while still paying the mortgage, but can't because I'm just not there yet.

Work's not the only excuse. Meals. Clean up after dinner. Make the spawn (read: children) lunches. Walk the dog. Spend time with the way, way, way better half. Drive the older spawn to his high school fencing matches, and sit there for two hours trying to figure out what on earth is going on and why the judge keeps flailing his arms around like he's signaling Ricky Henderson to steal home. Read!!!! Six hours' sleep. Watch my beloved and accursed Jets 3+ hours on the weekend. With a remarkable amount of luck, maybe I'll have the privilege of watching them a couple more times this year. Blog. Tweet.

I know there's more.

What I'm trying to say is, writing is hard. Making time for writing is harder.