Here’s the deal, folks. Roughly ten months ago I added “mother” to my resume, right next to “wife” and “high school English teacher.” At 9:48 AM on May 1st, I fell in love with a beautiful, ambitious, intelligent little ball of vigor named Savannah Joy. She’s my sunshine, my world, my little pioneer, and I am so thankful, everyday, to have her. Like many parents, I’ve learned a lot since she’s been born – how to make a bottle with one hand, how to pack a diaper bag in thirty seconds, how to sleep while standing up. Most of these things I anticipated. What I did not foresee, however, was figuring out how to maintain my sanity in the midst of it all.
Yes, I’m a wife; yes, I’m a mother; yes, I’m an educator. But wait, who am I? Savannah is a blessing for many reasons, but she’s especially a blessing because she’s reminded me that I am a writer, and as a writer, I have an obligation to write. When I ignore this obligation, like I’ve done for many years, I lose sight of who I am. Thus, “The Novel” blog is born: a creative outlet for a loving mother whose brain will not survive on mashed peas and picture books alone.
Initially, the blog felt like a good idea because it was a way of making my writing public. However, I think the true upside to all of this is that it holds me accountable. I have to write, whether I want to or not, because someone might possibly, maybe, perhaps be expecting an entry. Even if it is just my mother. Readers or no readers, the words will march on, and that is a victory.
So. What do I intend to write about? I’m a 26-year-old wife, mother and teacher living in rural southeast Iowa. My work routine outside of the classroom consists of cooking, cleaning, laundry, and child raising. If that doesn’t scream electrifying blog material, I don’t know what does.
Okay, okay, I get it. It’s not a movie, it’s not a novel.
Not just for me, but for millions of other people around the world. It’s not glamorous, it’s not perfect, but it’s mine, and that’s something. I often find myself getting lost in the monotonous routine of day-to-day life, until that routine inevitably becomes my life. Maybe you’ve been there, maybe you are there. It’s an illness, really, and this blog is my medication – a treasured moment of sanity amidst the many moments of go, go, go! chaos. A new, novel perspective on the familiar – that’s what I hope to gain and to give with this blog.
Writing is my therapy. It puts me in a place where I can breathe again. Read away to witness the remedy unfold.