Okay... so I'm one tormented housefrau at the moment...
I have two self-published books out (Vulnerable and Wounded both by Amy Lane) and I'd love to write professionally--I mean, I've read my own work and besides an uncontrollable urge to hide it under the couch when my parents drop by, it's not bad. Let's just say I like it better than Laurell K. Hamilton's last four books, but not better than her first five. I would like to write professionally. I'm even searching for an agent--and haven't we all heard THAT before--but the writing is not the tormented part--I have no problem writing. I write in the shower, I write in the car, I write when I'm cleaning the house (don't laugh. I clean the house occassionally.) I write when I'm reading to the cave troll (otherwise known as Kewyn the toddler), and when I'm singing to the most beautiful baby in the world at this moment in time. (She's my fourth and final child, and they have all been the most beautiful baby in the world at this moment in time.) The lovely thing about at least self-publishing is that when you would normally be given a ration of crap about daydreaming or talking to yourself, you can now respond with a perfectly equable "Leave me alone, I'm writing." It makes you sound very respectable, and people can sometimes forgive even my craptacular housekeeping.
So the writing is not the tormenting part, and neither is the yarn. Yes, this blog is called A Yarning to Write because I, like so many inspired by our Beloved Yarn Harlot, Stephanie Pearl-MacPhee, also knit and (unlike our Beloved Yarn Harlot) crochet. I love yarn. I love it's texture, it's color, it's possibilities, it's bajillion pattern books that have taken over two bookshelves (only 1/2 as many as my sci-fi fantasy collection) and it's 30 (count 'em, 30) un-biodegradable plastic crates lining the shelves especially built for me by my beloved to hold the color, texture, and possibilities and make the utilization of those pattern books possible. So no, the yarn doesn't torment me. It has never tormented me, it has only showered goodness and grace upon my cluttered, wacco life.
What torments me is the choice between them.
Because I am also a high school teacher and a mother of four. My spare time is at a premium. It's funny how that happened. When I was in college and working I thought I had little spare time and had no compunction about watching copious movies until the odd hours of the night because I felt I deserved it. Now that I teach high school and mother four incredibly spoiled children, I only watch movies when I can knit something for my children because I think they deserve it. I often listen to movies while I write because I think my fans (all 20 of them, may they live forever) deserve it. I'm not exactly sure how the pass times I loved became a gift for the people I love, but they have, and what torments me is that there is never, never ever in a million years if I could live that long enough time to pass. Ever.
So when my husband said, "Hey, honey, why don't you blog." I first responded with, "I don't have time." I don't. But God, Goddess and other, I long to write. I long to knit. I long to write about knitting and the wierdo things that happen in my brain and the adorable things my todder does and the brain damaged things my middle schoolers do (all middle schoolers are brain damaged--I've taught that age, don't let anybody convince you differently) and the squishy-squeezy-cute things my most beautiful baby in the world is destined to do.
So I figured I'd do a blog. I'd make a commitment. If I'm writing for the lovely people out there in the ether, then I will feel obligated, and in serving them I will satisfy myself. So here I am blogging... I will blog about yarn, I will blog about sci-fi, I will blog about knitting, I will blog about my students, I will blog about motherhood, I will write about whatever dumbass thing that enters my little teeny tiny pea sized overtaxed grey matter, and I will hope that somewhere out there in the ether, I will find someone who will enjoy it. When school starts, I may only blog once a week, but still, that's a commitment, and I'll stick to it--probably more assiduously than I will stick to grading papers, but so be it.
Comment as you will... I will reply if I can... maybe one handed while I'm nursing a baby or cooking a dinner or knitting a sock and I will ask myself why, oh why, did I decide to put one more big greasy helping of country-fried steak with chocolate sauce on my corelle non-breakable plate, but we all know why.
I have a yarning to write.