There are days, oh yes, when I find my thoughts lacking in substance and clarity. I’ll suffer a spell of creative ineptitude, only to have my work schedule thrown completely out of whack by the minutes wasted. It’s then that I find myself, much like an insomniac who lies in bed stealing furtive glances at the clock, worrying about what to write as naptime draws to an end and school bus looms in the distance. Working with a toddler in the house is difficult; three children make it damn near impossible, and I have precious moments in the day in which to work without interruption.

Contract work is not my life aspiration; however, it helps to pay the bills, covering the expense of those important must-haves like food and winter coats. *Yes! I predict my children will need winter coats, eventually, despite October’s freakish summer-like weather.*  So efficient, am I, in my contract work that I can now justify the measly per-article earnings. By early 2008, I am hoping to add to my Master Schedule the obligations of two more contracted writing positions.  I like to stay busy. I become restless otherwise. I have no assigned articles to write today, and I am feeling particularly on edge.Nearly two months ago I queried a popular magazine. The wait is agonizing, yet necessary. I know the drill. By month’s end, I’ll have another query, perhaps two, prepared to send out in the hopes of gaining a clip and a paycheck. Then there’s the cookbook. Did you know I am writing a cookbook? A muffin cookbook, to be precise. All recipes taste-tested and approved by Jacob, the pickiest of the picky and sufferer of sensory integration disorder/asperger’s/ADHD/and who the hell really knows? *In the next few weeks, I will have some interesting news to share in regards to the neverending saga of our challenges with the boy.*

But here’s the problem. My brain is a bottleneck of ideas, each one crammed inside the gray matter and vying for attention. Just pick one, I tell myself. Outline your idea. Query. Pick another idea. Outline. Query.  Keep them going. Get them out of here. Declutter your head.

Sigh. Sometimes I just want to watch a movie instead, languish on the couch with a bowl of popcorn or a handful of M&M’s, nininins, as my toddler calls them. I did just that the other day, watched a movie as Bridget napped. Brokeback Mountain, a movie my husband refused to watch and one I thought decidedly slow. I watched it for Heath and Jake, despite the premise of the movie (of which I had no problem, mind you. i’m a liberal. a supporter of gay rights. a believer of gay marriage. how many readers did i just lose by my proclamation? i suppose i will save my lack of faith for another post.).

A writer with too many ideas intermingling in her head produces nothing but verbose blog fodder. Public accountability is a necessary evil, especially on those overcast days when coffee just can’t seem to cast the sleep from a pair of tired eyes.  There’s a thought. Public accountability.  Huh . . . .  

(an idea festers) 

 Clearly, I need more work. 

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 Don’t forget to turn in your articles for Friday’s Up For Debate.