I have two witnesses when I write at my writing desk – my 6-year-old son, when he’s home from school, and my little 8-year-old dog, who sits by me every time I write. My dog stays with me from the moment I sit in the morning and start writing, hoping I’ll take a break and walk her, till late at night when she finally decides around midnight, that’s enough, mom, let’s go to bed.
When I’m not at my writing desk, my son will tell me to sit and write. It’s his way of having his own bit of privacy in our little house, where he can play with his toys in the living room while I write in the dining room, and he still gets to see me there. Just like my dog, my son likes to have me close by as I write – I’ve got to be within eyesight the entire time. Sometimes, when his dad goes to bed early, my son tells me he’ll keep me company as I write, though it’s tough for him to be quiet, and I end up losing my patience, frustrated that I can’t write a word with his iPad blaring and him singing – the entire time.
Lately I’m trying out dictation, especially when I’m walking the dog. Unfortunately, I end up just ranting away and forgetting to transcribe what I just dictated. Not that I want to transcribe my rants anyway, which are mostly about my writing frustrations more than the book I’m writing. I often wonder if my dog could talk, the things he’ll say. There’ll be a lot, I’m sure.
As for my son, I’m sure that when he’ll grow up, he’ll probably tell someone about how his mother would sit for hours in front of her laptop and write – or pretend to write – because deep inside, she really was wishing she wasn’t cursed with the need to write. Instead, she wished they’d have spent more time outside, exploring the world together.
Morrighan's Muse 