Escape and Imagination

I am phasing out a bit from blogging and attempting to sit down and write in, yes how Great Gatsby of me, a novel each day. Am I succeeding? Well, no not really but the thought is there and bits are forming. I want to figure out how to print the blogs I have done and make a book (shoot me a note if you have done this!) and take time to get a romance novel written before Lucy is out of elementary school.

Once when I had a baby and 3 toddlers I remember standing at our kitchen counter back when we lived in Saint Paul and reading a biography on Nora Roberts. She wrote when she had two young boys in order to escape. I still can feel the tug of small chubby hand on my leg, the crusted over lasagna pan in the sink and baby I was juggling on my hip. As much as I adore my job 87% of the time escaping into a book is pure bliss.

What housewife does not want to ride off to Saudi Arabia or sail the emerald isle? I have always had a stack of books by by bed, in my purse, dog eared next to the potty chair where I am teaching someone that developmental phase. When I read in Freakenomics that the number of books in a home was more indicative of children's future career potential that being read to I was thrilled. Yes, I read to the kids, but just as often you will find a pile of us each reading our own book, or kindle!

I have started many novels and books over the years, and I have a chest full of books I wrote in junior high and high school. For someone who is not overly sentimental I cant seem to recycle these notebooks. They hold the memory of pure unfiltered hope that I would someday be a writer.

Now, as a mother and a family of ten executive assistant, the time to write is fleeting at best. I also struggle with the demons of believing I am not smart enough to write or succeed. Honors at graduation both high school and college and IQ tests don't hold a candle to how hard it is to be dyslexic in a fast typing world.

That said, as I restart writing after 5 years of personal literary dormancy (aside from the blog) I am reminded of my love for fantasy. Of what a JOY it is to research areas of the world I want to visit again or explore for the first time. I am amazed at how easily I write about places I have not been for over twenty years. Buying fresh figs in Italy, climbing into abandoned villas in France, a wooden fun park in Ireland and learning to read in London. Even how peacful it was running along the fields in college and helping on farms in rural Minnesota.

I may be approaching the reality of a middle aged housewife but I can't help my love for pushing limits ever so slightly even if it means creating imaginary landscapes in stolen moments.

Wishing everyone a moment of escape and imagination as we enter into the sweet summer months.

My first priority is being the best mother and wife I can be, but I want to make sure a close second is bit of time for my own writing. Imagination is not practical but it sure is wonderful.


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