Er, reality check, mija's y mijo's.
This is still me we're talking about.
So I'm just gonna shoot straight from the hip, and hope a word or two hits the target.
I love what I do. Dreaming up characters, or sometimes just sitting still and being a conduit for them to tell their stories. It's amazing. I get to look at pics of hot people and legitimately claim to be doing research.
How cool is that?
But that's not the whole picture.
Because I have a family.
And family = chaos.
Cause everyone has different needs, and slightly different rhythmic patterns they move to. I think the difference keep life spicy.
So, spice is good.
Anyone who has ever spent time in a kitchen can tell you that.
Put the wrong spices together though, and the result can be wretched. And by wretched, I mean abso-freaking-lutely NASTY TASTING.
Not quite how one wants life.
I write around the chaos. I get up early. I break the writing into bits and pieces. I take the vignettes that my family provides me and weave them into my stories.
And, Ta-Da *sings that part*, I have a story. And a family that sees me, and is part of my everyday rhythm. Some days we flow together smooth and tasty as Jiffy extra-creamy peanut butter and Nutella (if you don't know what this is I weep for you). Some days, we're way more Fish and Bicyclish.
I just keep going. I love what I do, and I love who I am...mother, singer, writer, etc.
Like I said, not especially clever today. Just kinda heart-full and hoping.