It seems the conspiracy to keep you from doing the things you love starts when you wake up. Kids, the spouse, work, school, family, friends, pets, social events—they all impede on precious “me” time. Once you’re sucked into the daily routine, the “roadblocks” in front of you stand high and strong, trying to keep you from your writer destiny and forcing you to surrender.
“Maybe I’ll have time to write tomorrow,” you say. But tomorrow becomes another tomorrow, then another, then another. Before you know it, you scramble to get back into a writing rhythm, but then you’re like, “Now, where did I leave off again?”
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