Thank Goodness for The Husband, or the Importance of a Kick in the Butt

So blah, blah, blah I have whined on here before about how tough it can be to write. It’s isolating, frustrating, and (for many if not most of us) unpaid most of the time. It’s time-consuming, requires tremendous concentration and just the right environment, and cannot be done in fits and starts (again, for most of us, most of the time). Sure, it’s also extremely rewarding – when someone recognizes or enjoys your work or you get noticed for it. But those rewards don’t come near as often as most of us would like.

Today ended up being One of Those Days – you know the kind. The up-down-up-down, “why am I doing this,” “I should just get a job and at least get paid to be frustrated,” “what a &*(^#$ing waste of time this all is…” day.

UGH, she said.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m writing this on March 15 for posting on March 22, so This Day isn’t technically today to you, the reader, but you can get the gist nonetheless. I normally schedule blog posts at least a week – preferable two-to-three weeks – in advance because it takes quite a lot of mental effort and a surprising amount of time to prepare them. That’s because I try to put up something interesting and relevant in each post. You may be chuckling to yourself right now in disbelief, but I do. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I do try. Seriously. Cut me some slack. It’s tough to write original fiction AND original blog stuff simultaneously while co-running a household with two step-kids who are talented and interested enough to be involved in multiple activities each, believe me! Actually, that plays into the story, so I’ll pick it back up now. Hooray – a segue, and I didn’t have to make it up!

As I was saying, I was having A DAY. And so I did what I do when I have One of Those Days now – I whined to The Husband. He has been a peach about this writing thing ever since we have been together, offering support and help and love and all that good stuff. I needed some of that today (or so I thought), and so I went to him looking for it. I was going on and on about how I didn’t know if I’d keep reviewing books or writing the blog because it’s thankless work and takes so much time and I never have any time/energy to write fiction anymore, la la la. You can imagine the rest – suffice to say I went on for at least five solid minutes (I’m a talker, teehee), and five solid minutes of whinging is a surprisingly long time.

When I finally stopped talking long enough to breathe, The Husband started talking. I was prepared for verbal hugs and kisses, as though I was a small child with a scraped knee. I smiled at my desk, waiting for the healing to begin. Imagine my surprise when, instead of whispering sweet nothings he began barking sharply worded retorts.

It went something like this:
(A paraphrasing shall now commence; Husband, please cut me some slack if I over- or under-remember. You know how I am… teehee)

HIM: “You have plenty of time. You spend all night reading or doing crossword puzzles. You can write fiction during the day and write blog posts and book reviews at night.”
ME: “I don’t want to work all day and all night!”
HIM: “Neither do I, but I do what I have to in order to keep you and our household in the lifestyle to which they are accustomed. Suck it up buttercup.”
(Teehee – the “suck it up” part is a prime example of my paraphrasing. He did not use those words, although I’m quite certain he must have thought about it… Admirable restraint on his part to not use them, in the face of my whining, eh? I think so too. He’s good people. That’s why I married him.)
ME: “WAHHHH. It’s hard and boring and work to do all this. If I’m going to be frustrated and annoyed and bored, I might as well get a real job and be a lawyer again.”
HIM: “Nice. So you’re just going to give up on the dream you’ve had your whole life because it’s hard? Great message to send the kids. And way to fold like a wet piece of paper…”
(Teehee – more paraphrasing. I’ll let you guess which parts this time. It won’t be hard.)
ME: “So what do I DOOOOOOOOOOOO??”
HIM: “Write.”
ME: “I’m trying.”
HIM: “Try harder. Write more.”

So there I was, now feeling lame and unloved on top of frustrated, bored, and a teensy bit mad. Where was my TLC? Where was the unconditional love?

Harrumph, she said. Followed by a harshly worded, “I’ll show him…”

And I did. I started to write. And I wrote some more. And some more. I wrote through the remaining two hours of the afternoon before he got home from work. I broke only long enough to shower and get in the car (we had Date Night plans after he went to his son’s hockey tryouts), then resumed when he dropped me off at the coffee shop while he did his thing. I wrote through the entire two and a half hours that he was at the ice rink, and made him wait for me in the car outside while I finished my thought and then packed up. We had Date Night, came home, and he went to bed and I sat back down at the computer. I wrote over 7,300 words tonight, more than doubling the length of one of my Works in Progress (the book I always thought I’d finish/publish first). Then I started some of the annoying bits of social media marketing that I usually despise and writing blog posts. Like this one.

He was right. Harrumph again, she said.

I didn’t need coddling or hugs and kisses. I needed a swift kick in the arse. And he gave it to me. Sometimes I’m going to whine – and that’s okay. Sometimes I’m going to need to be given permission to take a break and walk away – and that’s okay too. But sometimes I’m going to need a drill sergeant – and boy am I glad to know that I have one.

I’m a slacker by nature – which is also okay, as long as there’s always someone around to keep me from wallowing too deeply. Otherwise I’ll never finish. There are stories in me – I’ve known that for a long time. And it’s time for them to come out – by hook or by crook. Or by Drill Sergeant Rick. 😉