An introduction to the perils of the creative life

Louise here.

Let me just say, if we'd known what we were getting ourselves into, we would have kept our day jobs. Probably. Maybe. Okay, maybe not. But it would have been a BAD decision, because the creative life is worth the tar-pit, asphalt and diesel-scented, ADHD, Pig-pen meets the Tazmanian Devil lifestyle it necessitates. We think.

I wrote the first word of my first novel during another lifetime. I'd just turned 30 and my brain exploded. Plus, I was living in Steamboat Springs, Colorado and it snowed 15 FEET *not a typo* in one month. The first sentence I wrote: "Abbie Sullivan's scream cut that thick Texas air like a sharp knife splitting a melon." Not bad. Pretty good, actually. Still re-writing that story. My agent will take it out into the world someday soon.

That sentence ruined my life. There was no chance in h - e - double-toothpicks I'd ever be able to go back to civilian life again.

Then I re-met Trish (details of first meeting in a future post) and it was downhill from there. We bonded because we were WRITERS. Under-parented writers who shared multiple obsessions: office supplies, good cup-towels, underwear with the elastic still holding, socks with no holes. And food. Fried chicken, fried okra salad, meatloaf, tuna casserole (recipes on request). And words. Just the right word for the job.

And a sisterhood was born.

This blog is an effort to expand the family. We know you're out there! Let's bitch and dish about the creative life.