Isn’t that what blogging is for?

My family gave me two—two—only slightly uninterrupted hours to work on my new WIP last night.

In that time, I managed to screw up my entire first chapter, make my MC look like a real headcase—she is, but it’s too soon—and think up one sentence that maybe doesn’t suck, but doesn’t belong where I put it.

I isolated the sentence in its own document so it wouldn’t be contaminated by my incompetence, jettisoned everything else I’d written during those two precious hours and called it a night.

This morning, I figured out a new approach and spent the time I usually use for blogstuff to write myself a plan.

So I’m feeling guilty right now—not because I don’t have a scintillating post today, because heaven knows y’all are used to that, but because I’m secretly hoping that Jane’s team will lose her first softball game in this afternoon’s tournament so I can spend the evening fixing my chapter in blessed air conditioning, instead of sitting on a hot metal bleacher in my work clothes, the warm, moist, mosquito-studded air swirling around me as I squint into the setting sun and try to muster the energy to cheer my beloved daughter for doodling stick figures in the dirt with her foot* as the game progresses oh-so-slowly around her.

Don’t get me wrong**—I strongly believe that team dynamics and athletics and sunshine are wonderful things, for other people, and I’m all for good sportsmanship.  But when push comes to shove—or not, because I guess that’s sort of the point–I honestly don’t see why we all can’t skip to the chase and learn good sportsmanship waiting in line at Dairy Queen at a reasonable hour, especially on days when Mother Nature is having a hot flash.

I’d wish for rain, which has worked pretty well this season, but rain means rescheduling. Again. And this season has already been a parental relay-race with a Janie-shaped baton and a sidelined Sunny.

Of course, if her team wins, I’ll go to the second game, because I love that kid more than air conditioning and also because she needs a ride home.

And I’ll pay attention while I’m there and applaud and shout encouragements because of the Bad Mommy Guilts, and I’ll grit my teeth and keep one eye the clock because of Obsessed Writer Frustrations, which will bring on more guilt which I’ll soothe by accompanying the team to Dairy Queen, which will bring on more frustration about lost writing time . . .

But at least I’ve managed to distill all this into a semi-coherent post.  That’s something.  Right?

Which Vicious Cycle are you riding today?


*My maternal pride insists on adding that she only does this when she’s in the  outfield—when they assign her a base, she’s Janie-on-top-of-it with good instincts and a decent arm.

**Or please do, because I’m coming off as a real First World Whiner, here, and I’ll take all the benefit of the doubt I can get.