My husband usually puts our little guy to bed at night, but tonight he got called into work unexpectedly. My preschooler asked if I could read him a "story from my head," one of my stories instead of a stack of books from his bookshelf.
I told him four chapters of a story I wrote two years ago. I started the story when I broke my foot and couldn't walk. I sat on my front porch with my foot propped up and wrote a children's story, the kind of story I always imagined I would write. I wrote the first draft by hand in a pink journal covered in cartoon aliens. I love the story and the characters, but the timeline has a flashback that is too complex for the third grade crowd.
Just this week, while cleaning my house and trying to give myself a break from writing, I figured out how to fix the story.
It's awesome my little guy wanted to hear that story again and that he remembered it after not hearing it for several months. He couldn't get enough of it and begged for one more chapter. He imagined he was one of the baby snake characters and kept asking me what happens to that character.
I feel very lucky that I had this time with him tonight to remember why I love writing.
I think I'm going to be very productive next year with the little bit of time I have to write each week. I want to dedicate eight morning hours a week to writing new chapters and stories and spend an hour or two every evening working on edits and revisions.
I think I'll write more children's stories this year for my little guy.