Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Yes, this IS a rant. Problem?



I don’t really have much “writerly” to say today. An oddity, to be sure. I’m hard at work completing my current manuscript. I’m turning it in this afternoon, no matter what. Hopefully, the sex will really come. LOL. Come. Snort. Well, anyway… that’s all I have left. That and smoothing the ending I’ve already written. Tomorrow, I’ll post a blurb about the book and the series. I’m very excited by what I have planned.

But first to finish this book.

Yesterday, I read a comment on another blog by a fellow writer whose husband accuses her of neglecting everything else because of her hobby. I also got an email from a friend whose husband did the exact same thing. I’ve heard the same from other writer friends, from bestsellers to newbies. This attitude infuriates me. First of all, this is no hobby. We get paid for this. It’s a job. If it was a job outside the home we wouldn’t even be around to badger. Ergh!!! Can you tell I’ve encountered this in my husband…? And to tell the truth I halfway deserve it when I’m going for a deadline. I pretty much tune out everything unless there’s medical or natural emergency. But that’s not when he drags it out. Oh no…! It’s always when I’m actually on a light writing schedule and he thinks I need to do some sort of housework like laundry. Have I mentioned that my family makes a lot of laundry? And who is he to think I am the only one who can rear children and clean. I did not promise to clean, launder, cook and serve when I said my wedding vows. I don’t know many women who do. Like…none. Second of all…there is no second. I’ve already said it!

All this and I’m really not even torqued with my husband right now. He’s being pretty darn cool. But if he looks sideways at me even once today…

Yesterday
Children: Both still living. My baby turned 11. Wow!! Homework avoidance a 9 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection. Parent torture on Friday. Would I be considered a deadbeat parent if I just skipped it? I actually dread parent teacher conferences more than I dread going to the dentist—even when my children are perfect angels. I’m sure it’s a carryover fear from my childhood. I dreaded conferences then too. Kids dragged me to the Haunt today because mom AKA Troop Scoutmaster must have the bejesus scared out of her in the presence of 8 adolescent boys.
Loads of laundry: 2
Words Written: 1700

8 comments:

Molly Daniels said...

Amen! And when my 'hobby' makes enough money that he starts talking retirement, then we'll see who does the housework...

Bronwyn's Blog said...

Happy Birthday to the baby. Can't believe he's eleven already...

Brynn Paulin said...

Me either! It's unbelievable

Smut Girl said...

My first husband was that way. He's buried under a pretty tree in the...joking. Joking. Do not call the coppers. Oddly I am the one who explains myself. I get myself all twisted up. Hubby (the original and *only* lol) is all, "Hey, baby..." even if he walks in and I'm yelling, "HOld on! HOld on! Let me finish this page..."

I am the one who says, well, i didn't do this and I didn't do that...and he says...so...?

my god! look at all those typos. Sorry. Am on the girl scout website and...is horrendous...and long...and I keep flipping screens so I do not put my head through the drywall...ack!

Happy birthday to 11 year old child! I too own an 11 year old. Haven't tied him to a tree yet...
;)
xo
sommer

Molly Daniels said...

WAit until he hits 12...then tie yourself to a tree, as the hormonal hurricane is about to hit...

Brynn Paulin said...

Oh, I already have a teenager. Those hormones are hitting hard. When both boys are there, I might move out, lol!

sterlingwriter said...

Stone me for saying I'm the only writer in the universe whose husband makes me go down to the cave to write.
And he does all the laundry.
Ah, yes, 11. Don't know about boys, but my daughter cried the whole year. Hormones, oy!

Jennifer Armintrout said...

He never calls it a hobby... but he does complain that I'm neglecting him. Until a check comes... because then it's like, "Get cracking, I want an iPod!"