The article is from 2010, but so worth a repost.
TEN RULES FOR WRITING FICTION
My mini-rant is simple. I am overwhelmed. I maybe get a page or two, if I am lucky, done A DAY. Not an hour, not every few hours, A DAY. Sometimes it is just a few lines.
This displeases me.
I have no choice. I have a baby to tend to, a house and all that entails, a handicapped dog and a cat on prednisone. A cat on steroids is not a pretty thing. She meows nonstop because she believes she is always hungry. Sort of like living with an addict and it sucks. At least she is not trying to sell my computer for more kibble, but if she could, I bet she would.
I considered postponing writing until my little guy was in preschool, but that would be three years from now. I also realized that was insane. I enjoy writing and I do not want to wait. This means I need to get really creative with my time. My big issue is that he naps a total of 2 to 2 1/2 hours daily and so when he does nap I may do laundry, take out the dog, answer email (apologies Mr. Franzen) and the second I sit down and begin to write, BAM, he is awake. Sure I could give up hours at night meaning I would get less sleep. I sort of have already, but not to the point where I am functioning on 6 hours or less. That might get ugly and dangerous. People would say J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter as a single mom, writing when the baby slept. Well good for her. Clearly she is a better mother and a more ambitious writer. Her house may have smelled like poop and looked like it too, but dammit, she got the book done. I do not hate on J.K. I hate on the fact that everyone believes if one person can do it one way, then can't we all? Uh, no we cannot. Too add to my crabby demeanor it the fact that me not working out has made me feel like a tub of lard. I do walk with my little one twice a day which is great, but it does not make up for the fact that my deltoids, pectorals and biceps and triceps get no major workout from pushing the stroller up a slight incline. A miserable crabby writer is no fun to be around. Sure historically there were some, but they were published and drank like whiskey was going out of style.
I will figure it out. I hope. I have to or it will all be for naught. Okay, too dramatic. Or is it not dramatic enough? Lost in this overwhelming sea of unbalance I hope I can anchor myself soon. How Michael Chabon was that line folks? HAHAHAHAH!