Like I’d written before, working full time and having a family has left very little writing time.  For years I’ve tried to have it all only to fail miserably and take that failure out on others.  In the last six months I’ve come to learn what is important and what I need to let go.

Trying to write isn’t easy.  For me, I need quiet, uninterrupted time when my mind is fresh and ready to work.  So I quickly came to my first decision.  Sleeping in on the weekends was a thing of the past.  During the week, I’m up at 5 getting my husband off to work, then my son off to high school and then my daughter off to elementary school before I finally head off to work.

On the weekends I now allow myself to sleep until 6 (yeah I know…wow a whole hour).  Then I’m up and on the computer typing away for the next two-three hours until my family begins to rise.  On a good day I can easily reach 2-3k in one of these writing jags.  Once everyone is up, my writing for the day is done, though I’m always working the story in my mind.

As I clean house and do laundry I work storylines and angles, trying to figure out my characters motivations for doing what they do.  I go over what I’ve already written to make sure the storyline is still making sense and heading in the right direction.

I’ve never been one for Facebook or Twitter so I don’t do much social media.  Maybe that hurts me.  Maybe I need to figure how to incorporate it into my daily routine.  We’ll see how that goes.

For now I spend exactly 1 hour every morning writing in between getting my family off to work and school, so I average about 1k a day during the week and 2 a day on the weekends.  Since I’m what you’d call a well writer this system seems to be working for me as once I’m done for the day I’m no longer worrying about what I haven’t written.  The time away gives me a chance to replenish my imagination and I know tomorrow, when I’m fresh I’ll be able to continue with the story.  Hopefully, this pattern continues to work for me and I can continue to be a productive author.

I’m still struggling to fit everything into my life.  Most of the time not all the laundry gets done and exercise for me is still non-existent.  But I’m hopeful that as I settle further into this pattern and continue to make adjustments I can eek out the time I need to make it all work.

Being an author isn’t as easy as people might think.  For those of us who aren’t successful enough to make writing their full-time EDJ (evil day job) it’s even more difficult.  Now add in family and outside obligations and sometimes I’m amazed I can find the time to write at all.

Because I’m what you might call a mid-level author (and really I may not even be that) my works don’t sell well enough for me to reap the rewards of great royalties.  So I work a EDJ as an Administrative Assistant in a construction company for 37.5 hours a week.   I’m lucky in that I have some great bosses who allow me to use my work computer to promote and post on my blog during the day (so long as I’m also promoting our company too).  But its not like I can write while I’m at work.

A few months ago I finally reached a point in my life where I accepted my place in the writing hierarchy and resolve that I would always require an EDJ to meet my financial means.  I was pretty happy with this acceptance as it lifted an invisible weight off my shoulders.  However, events in the last few days have risen that reminded me of why I started writing to begin with.

Besides the love of telling a story and creating art through words, there was that lure of having the income I desperately needed to sustain my family, while still being able to be home for them.  That’s what I’d been striving for and failed to achieve.   As my kiddo’s grew and needed me less and less that pressure of needing to be home with them also became less.

Then last week I received a call from the school nurse telling me I needed to take my daughter to the doctor.  She had a rash the nurse couldn’t identify.  Well it turns out she also had a fever and the doctor was concerned enough to send us for blood work.  Abnormally low white cells showed up in her blood work and now the watch is on to see if this is virus related or something more sinister.

She’s always been a very healthy child and was 9 days away from her 3rd year of perfect attendance at school when this issue cropped up.  She’s heartbroken at failing to achieve her goal for a third year in a row.  I’m sad for her, but more concerned about her health.  When the fever returned this weekend (with no other symptoms except tiredness) I grew worried once again.  Could this still be a virus?  I kept her home from school and was, for the first time  four years, reminded of why I’d wanted to become a successful author.

I felt guilty for missing work, but I would have felt guiltier for leaving her home with a sitter or worse yet, sending her to school sick.  I hate carrying around that feeling of guilt, especially when it comes to that time old battle between work and family.  Besides the lack of pay (if I don’t work I don’t get paid) there’s the knowledge that people are relying on me and I’ve failed them because I’m not there.

However, on the flip side I would have failed my daughter if I had passed her off to a sitter or sent her to school.  I absolutely refuse to fail my child on purpose.  So I live with the lesser guilt of the two and stay home.  We watched TV together and I made her lunch, gave her medicine and wrote while she slept.  All the while I kept thinking that if I’d just been as successful as I’d originally aimed to be I wouldn’t be carrying around any guilt at all.

So just when I thought I had everything figured out I’m once again unsure.  Do I continue on being the mid-list author without weighing myself down with the worries of trying to succeed, or do I allow that pressure to once again consume me?  No matter what choice I’m not sure I’ll be happy.  The only way I know I’d be truly happy is if I was already there, making the salary of writing to support my family and staying at home with my kiddos in the process.  Until I reach that point I’ll never truly be happy, but is the stress of trying to reach that elusive brass ring and the unhappiness and frustration that comes with it worth the reward?  I knew I wouldn’t be an overnight success, but I have author friends who are.  So what am I doing wrong?  I’ve been at this writing gig for 10 years now and still don’t have the level of success I wanted.  What if I don’t ever make it? Then what?

This is a repost from my blog day on One Handed Writers.

I’ve been writing for nearly 10 years now and one thing I’ve come to understand…Genre is important. I’m not just speaking as to whether an author should write Romance, Erotica, Paranormal or Horror, but what you should write within those Genres.

As an avid reader of Nora Roberts romances I always aspired to write like her. Somewhere along the line though I lost track of my original intent. When I first started writing and submitting to publishers, I kept receiving reject letters telling me my stories weren’t HOT enough that ‘sweet’ romance didn’t sell. Desperate to be published and prove to my family I wasn’t wasting my time I sexed up my tales and resubmitted.

Samhain was the first to accept my spicy new work and published Beyond the Tears for their Mid Summer’s Night Steam Anthology series back in 2007. With a taste of moderate success and some good reviews I slid further into the erotic romance genre as I attempted to repeat my first achievement. Next came Some Kind of Hero published Spring of 2008. I spent a year writing, polishing and tweaking this story and was extremely proud of it…then.

With another successful publication under by belt I ventured out to other publishers and joined the ranks of Loose-id, Amber Quill Press, and The Wild Rose Press. (I have since terminated contracts with Amber Quill and Wild Rose). My success was moderate with these publishers, actually pretty abysmal with the latter two, but by working with them I gained experience I might not otherwise found.

As the years wore on and self-publishing became more mainstream and less of a stigma within the industry I decided to jump on that Erotica Gravy Train that was giving some no-name authors, never before published through traditional means thousands of dollars a month in earnings. I began writing short stories, tailored specifically for sex only with little to no character development or plot. I toyed in sub-genres within erotica that made my stomach roll; subjects that I’d never want to read myself. I was ashamed of these stories and ashamed of myself for selling out simply to garner a buck. In short, I’d lost not only my direction and purpose, but my integrity.

Worse yet, I quickly realized that I’d irreversibly damaged Michelle’s relationship with her fans. With my writing being all over the map, in many different sub-genre’s that span sweet romance to straight up smut, how were my fans to know what they were getting from story to story? In short I’ve made a mess of Michelle in my attempts to make a place for myself within the market.

With 10 years under my belt, I’ve come a long way from that first story and I’ve learned several things about myself. I’ve learned that I do actually enjoy writing in various genre’s. I love the sweet love story, but I also love writing the occasional smut when the mood strikes. I’ve accepted that due to my inability to commit to a specific genre I’ll never have the success of my peers and that my family will be proud of me no matter what I write. Mostly I’ve learned to follow my heart. What I write is so much better written when I enjoy the story and the characters. I am no longer going to try and write whatever the ‘flavor of the week’ is. Instead I’m going to stick to what whatever interests me at that moment. If I enjoy writing the story, hopefully there will be those who enjoy reading it.

In the meantime I still must figure out what to do with Michelle. The mess I’ve made with her possibly can’t be corrected and if that’s the case maybe a new pen name is in order. That’s something I’ll need to decide, but for now I’m simply going to continue writing what my heart desires…in whatever genre that may be.

For the last year I’ve been in a self-perpetuated funk that has slowly grown worse with time.  It started when in a bit to find help with my PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) I changed gynecologists.  I thoroughly researched my choices before I made the change only to be severely disappointed afterward.

My new gyn told me I needed to lose some weight before she’d consider any medical treatment for PCOS.  That the best treatment is weight loss and diet.   Understood!  However, after losing 20 lbs in two months then nothing for the next two I returned to see her.  I asked for help and was told that I wasn’t working hard enough.  That I couldn’t cheat on my diet and I needed to get ‘serious’ and spend more time exercising than 30 minutes a day.   I was crushed.

I’d gone to a dietitian, planned out and followed closely a meal plan (designed for a diabetic because they didn’t know how to handle my combined PCOS and kidney disease).  I’d committed to 30 minutes of cardio every day and my reward was to be told I was cheating and I needed to do even more.

I quit!

Yep.  My frustration level turned into anger and I bailed on all my doctors (except my chiropractor).  Now before you feel the need to lecture, I know my decision only hurt myself, but when you’re hurt and angry that’s what happens.  I decided that if they didn’t care enough to help me then why should I care at all?

In august I received a letter from the new doctor at my GP’s office reminding me of my annual physical.  Still angry, I ignored it.  Then I received another one in November.  Slowly my mindset began to change.  If this doctor cared enough to bother writing me twice, maybe he’d be engaged enough to actually help.  So today I called my GP office and was dealt yet another blow.  The new doctor…the one I liked and had placed my faith of help in was gone.  He’d left the practice and the office wouldn’t tell me where he’d gone.

I cried.  Yep.  I’ll admit it.  Frustration got the better of me and I cried like a little baby.  I don’t like being fat.  I don’t want to ignore my family because I’m tired and don’t feel well. I don’t enjoy being angry and frustrated all the time, but this is my life right now.  It’s spiraled so far out of control that I feel as if there’s no hope.

So I turned to my writers group and vented my frustration.  My reward was some encouraging words from a fellow author who understands my frustration and shares my battle with PCOS.  Using her words as a crutch, I’ve decided to try once again to do what I couldn’t before.    I don’t know when I’m going to find the time to exercise.  I don’t know how I’m going to make the diet issue work with my family and I don’t know if it will even work, but I have to try.

My youngest child is 9 and I want to be around to see her graduate high school.  If I do nothing that may not happen.  So after working my EDJ, instead of writing tonight, I’m going to spend time researching ways to eek in exercise during my day.  I’m going to revisit my Glycemic Index book and begin looking for easy to make recipes.  I’m going to try because nobody else is going to do it for me.

I’m also going to try and come here every day and blog about my progress or lack there of and make myself accountable for my decisions.  I always tell my children they need to ‘own’ their mistakes and try not to blame others.  It’s time I take my own advice.

When I get to the point where I need help…and I know I will…then I will look for a new doctor(s).  Until then this battle is mine and mine alone.

So many times in our day to day life it’s easy to get swept into the ‘I want’ or ‘You owe me’ mentality. If you’re truly lucky something will come along and wake you from your greedy trance, reminding you of what’s really important.

That happened for me a few weeks ago. I’d been upset about poor book sales and depressed that I won’t be able to quit my EDJ to write full time. I was frustrated at the lack of response from friends when we had a major problem with our house and needed help. I was despondent about the lack of money and the wealth of bills consuming my life.

Then Hurricane Sandy paid New Jersey a visit. As the storm blew on for hours on end, I sat with my family praying the big swamp maples in our yard wouldn’t come crashing down on the house or cars. I worried over the loss of our roof and power and ultimately everything that was important to us.

When it was over, our house and neighborhood was virtually untouched and unlike so many poor souls at the shore, we were spared any serious damage. At first I thought the storm had turned out to be no big deal, but in the days that followed I watched picture after picture of what had happened less than 100 miles away and my heart cracked. Weeks later (and for months to come) I see the results of this disaster and I find myself with a different mental attitude.

I’m still sad about my sales and still fuss over never seeming to have enough money to do what ultimately needs to be done. However, I don’t let it consume me anymore and every day I remember to be grateful for what I have.

What do I have?

I have a loving husband, two beautiful, smart, healthy, well-adjusted children who with any luck will grow into fine adults. I have a nice house in a nice neighborhood and I’m surrounded by good neighbors. I have transportation back and forth to a job that helps me pay my bills.

I have the ability to change my life by changing my attitude. I have the means to make my life better with the choices I make…choices that are my right as an American citizen, given to me by my forefathers and are mine by decree of the constitution of the United States of America.

I am thankful for my family, friends and freedom.