There are thousands of writers out there, and if you ask each of them what they think is the hardest part of writing, you’ll probably get thousands of different responses.
For me, the absolute hardest part of writing is finding alone time in which to do it.
I don’t mean I need to be completely alone, like I’m in a vacuum. I can be alone in a crowded coffee shop, thanks to my trusty headphones. The headphones effectively work to close a metaphorical door, and I’m left with my thoughts to create or ponder or daydream.
But how does this work in my world? I mean, I have a wonderful five-year-old boy who is the light of my universe and I adore him to pieces, and he likes to involve me in just about everything he does. (Yesterday, after a trip with my husband to Legoland, he recreated Hoth using Legos, green army men, and assorted other toys.) And I love it. I love his imagination, I love how he tells stories, and I love that he includes me in his world.
And I also love that he goes to bed between 7:30 and 8 o’clock every night, because that affords me a few moments to myself to create. My husband isn’t so thrilled about the fact that Camp NaNoWriMo starts in April (which is also our son’s birthday month) because it essentially means he’ll be a NaNoWidower, but I think he’ll be okay.
When I’m writing, I want to be left alone. No – I need to be left alone. I’m not ashamed to admit it. It’s me, the world that exists in my brain, and the characters who reside in my head until I move them onto the written page. Finding that alone time is so difficult, I really do treasure the moments I have.
And I take some solace in knowing I’m not alone.