Now that I’ve returned to my law practice, supposedly part-time, but we all know how that goes, I’m struggling to balance my creative side with mental fatigue, jail smells, sorrowful clients, attorneys from both sides, and judges who don’t know quite what to expect when they see me after my 5 year sabbatical.

Today, in a courtroom packed for the Justice Center’s weekly Crime Day, silence reigned when the judge called my case. He’s a former colleague from my public defender days, friendly and fair. Then a young prosecutor announced that her boss, Ed Corrigan – my nemesis from years before – objected to continuing my case, despite my appointment to it less than 12 hours before.

Really? I wondered. On what grounds? A colleague patted me on the shoulder. “Welcome back,” he smirked. Others sat back, obviously relishing the coming clash of fading, red-headed combatants.

As a writer, I knew the County Attorneys had set the scene, thrown down the gauntlet, while the audience awaited a shower of fireworks.

Instead, Mr. Corrigan stopped me on my way to the restroom, called me by my first name, and advised me he was NOT objecting, but merely wanted to put some facts on the record. Not only was he cordial, he even cracked a joke. And I laughed. At the end of my appearance, I thanked both the judge and Ed.

So my answer? Tonight I’ve only had time to write this vignette instead of focusing on many edits for Book 2. Look at my subject matter.

Work.

Sigh …

Or is there something else? Emotion, perhaps? As I write this, I smile. Fifteen years after our first battle, we’ve matured, Ed and I, enough to relax, to accept that every moment isn’t a crisis between us.

It’s a step toward the future, rather than the past.

For me to write in a flurry of creative twists and turns, I first need to tend to the daily chores.  I need freedom to roam in my thoughts and not be tied to an unfinished chore.  But how does a woman with a never-ending list of things which must be accomplished ever reach that point of freedom?  Strangely enough, it happens at unexpected times during those mundane chores that an idea will form and percolate.

Just this morning, as I was ironing the word cabin fever hopped into mind.  That was it.  My crazy old lady characters were all suffering from cabin fever.  I then wrote a scene of a golf putting challenge held in February in a garage where a golf bag was a weapons stash.  Yep, it was plum full of rifles and pistols and my restless ladies played around with them, drank English tea and putted on a fake green for quarters.  And I thought ironing was mundane.  I have learned to be excited in the repetitiveness of chores, great ideas will worm inside and snuggle close as you scrub floors, wash windows, or mow the lawn.

To honestly answer the question of how I write with, as Marie described, “a never-ending list of things which must be accomplished,” including (for me) running a small business, driving kids back and forth, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, answering emails, blah, blah, blah, I’d have to simply say – I often don’t. It’s an admission I hate to make because it brings me great anxiety. I wish I was more organized and could stick to a schedule that would make me feel better about myself and make me seem more professional, but I am not there yet. Currently, I am in between projects, desperately wanting to start another book but finding that my muse is completely on vacation. Often, I feel stuck unless I get that grand idea that propels me full fledge into a novel. Half-ass, half-formed ideas often feel weak and leave me uninspired to follow them further.

Once I am truly jazzed by an idea though, writing just happens, not on schedule, but whenever I can find a small stretch of time. It might be late at night, in the morning or at work when a client cancels. If I’m on a roll, I can get it done. Ideas for how to proceed don’t necessarily come at convenient times, so I find myself writing notes on scraps of paper at stoplights, in between clients, in the middle of a conversation with my husband…. When he sees my eyes glaze over and says, “did you even hear what I just said?” he knows an idea to add to my manuscript is pinging around in my head. It’s not a recommended communication strategy for any marriage, but when the muse comes, she must be heard. I just wish she’d come more often in between projects.