They do exist, believe it or not. There are moments in the day where the house falls silent. The dog leaves her post at the window and picks up her bone, satisfied that the threats have been scared off. The baby sleeps deeply. These are the moments to pounce on "work." I find that I am most productive in the early morning hours and late evening. This stage of life is quite full during the daylight hours. Full of everything. Of squeaks and giggles, barks and wrestling. Of errands and cooking. Housework and conversation. Frustrations and milestones. It looks like life, sounds like life, feels like life. It is good.
However, some work must be done in order to support all this living. It's rather difficult to work or create in the midst of all of these moments. So I bide my time until peace descends. Keep mental notes and handwritten ones. And then, I work. I don't always feel that I have enough time to accomplish what I'd like to, or to calmly weigh options for days as I once could.
I gather my tea, my m&ms, and my slippers. I boot up my laptop and soak in the steam from the tea as I wait for the blinking place-holder line to appear in Word. At times, there are empty pages to fill. More often, there are full pages to screen, searching out homophones and typos. Preventing technicalities from ruining the essence of a piece.
I don't merely "work for the weekend," usually. I love my work and it fuels me throughout the day. Writing and editing for myself or editing for others keeps me engaged in the world beyond my small circle of home, friends, and family. It keeps me learning, researching, fighting to make a difference in the world.
That's what writing does. The written word can change the world. It does so quite often.