by Jane Bekenham
What’s that saying about going as fast as you can? Well, I sure wish I knew it because I am…really. I’m trying hard to fit it all in.
Oh..yes…and then there’s looking after me. I should be doing exercise. I should be watching what I eat. I should have a clean-er house.
Should. Should. Should.
Who is it that puts all this pressure on us?
Well, that’s easy. I know the answer.
Me. Me. Me.
I am woman. I should be perfect.
Ha. Some hope. But heck I am trying. But you know what gets in the way? Writing.
And it’s wonderful that it does.
What does writing give me? A little chance to escape into fantasy, a world where there aren’t baby burps, or sick to wipe up, (hopefully), or where there’s no mundane tasks of sorting through the bills, making sure there’s something everyone will eat at the dinner table tonight.
Writing takes me away from all that. My heroes are handsome, successful, and tortured –life’s tough, they can’t get it too perfect. And my heroines. Well, do they know about doing the dishes, vacuuming or trying to find clean clothes amidst the pile that’s not folded. Nope. All they have to worry about is getting that hero to love them truly and deeply. Wouldn’t that be bliss?
Actually, I’m not sure it would. Because then I wouldn’t see my daughter’s delight when I had to pick her up at the airport yesterday, or hear my hubby say, ‘thanks for a nice dinner.’
But no matter that writing doesn’t give us these things, for most of us, we are addicted, we can’t give it up. Like readers, we have to find out what happens at the end of the story where writing. When we tell our friends that we have no idea what’s happening they look at us as if we’re a bit loco. It’s true. We probably are. I think we have to be to spend a zillion hours at the computer writing until our backsides end up permanently scarred in the shape of our chair, when we’ve realised it’s 4pm and we’ve forgotten to shower, or do…anything, but write. It’s that addictive. And I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
Why? Because I love my characters. Truly.
So the housework can wait. The family, well, they do understand that they come first, and God bless them, they’ll let me finish the page I’m on before they interrupt me.
So the exercise will wait a bit longer, and so will the dusting, but the full body massage I treat myself to monthly, and the pedicure too. They can’t wait. They are as important to me as writing. They keep me sane, healthy and take me out of my cave for a few minutes of each month. And they remind me to be kind to me. That I don’t have to be perfect, but I can treat myself.
Because…I’m worth it.
In books Author Jane Beckenham discovered dreams and hope, stories that inspired in her a love of romance and happy ever after. Years later, after a blind date, Jane found her own true love and married him eleven months later.
Life has been a series of ‘dreams’ for Jane. Dreaming of learning to walk again after spending years in hospital. Dreaming of raising a family and subsequently flying to Russia to bring home her two adopted daughters. And of course, dreaming of writing.
Writing has become Jane’s addiction – and it sure beats housework.