Guilt

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone out there! My topic today isn’t exactly a fun one, but one I find both humorous and fascinating all the same. It’s called guilt. And specifically, I’m talking writer’s guilt, though you could easily substitute reader’s guilt here as well. (I suffer from both.)

With the holidays bubbling, a major Christmas party to prepare for, and the odds and ends of shopping and wrapping and stocking stuffing going on, the logical side of me insisted on a break from the computer. At first it was tough. I think I even had the shakes. And then after two days I thought I’d survive. And then an opportunity arose. My kids were napping, my husband had gone out for some shopping, whether it be for car parts of gifts I didn’t much care. The computer beckoned. And I responded…

Yep. I sat at my keyboard and edited a manuscript I’d let sit for a while. By the time my husband had returned, I’d convinced both him and myself that there wasn’t that much to clean after all, and that the presents would be wrapped and tucked under the tree Christmas Eve. And then it got easier. Husband and kids outside playing, working on home projects. Computer. More naps. Computer. Last minute grocery shopping. “Honey, pleased take the boys. Do them good to get out.” Computer.

What can I say? I had work needing done, and my creative juices were screaming at me to jot down new ideas. So I did. And I’m not sorry. Really, I’m not. But I do feel a bit guilty that I had to sneak in my writing time. And don’t get me started on the new books I got for Christmas, the first of which I stayed awake last night until two a.m. reading.

Did I forego the party? Slack on my kids and husband? No. I just used some ingenuity to find the opportunity to write. And wow, but it made me feel pretty darned good. The kids still unwrapped a bazillion presents. The husband still received his traditional, annual decorative duck decoy, some tools clothes, and a night he’ll not soon forget. wink wink Heck, I even went to church with the family—an interesting story in itself best kept for another day. So all in all, what did I sacrifice to indulge in my guilty pleasure? Some sleep time, stress and last minute cleaning, and the knowledge that yes, I do have a problem. I’m addicted to writing.

Happy 2007, and here’s to 2008!