Writing this next to the stove, waiting for my black beans to bubble. Three sick kids in the other room, home from school but working on their laptops on school stuff, or at least pretending to convincingly.

Family. Job. Obligations. Responsibility.

From what I understand, most of us aspiring authors are part-timers. Best piece of advice for an new writer: “Don’t quit your day job.” Not that you can’t be successful. Heck, you just might be the next James Patterson. But until some Patterson-esque royalties start showing up — don’t quit your day job.

One of the hardest things about writing is just finding the time. But maybe it’s the effort to find it that makes it seem so joyful. A reward earned feels more special than a reward given. There’s truth to adage that making art should feel like its own reward.

Sat out on my back patio for three hours Saturday, a beautiful Michigan “Indian Summer” day, and banged out the first thousand words of my next book. Came back inside at dusk, still writing, and another four hours and fourteen hundred words later, Chapter 1 is written!

And I’ve already scribbled down some planned improvements, since no first volley is ever strong enough. Such is the nature of the art.

Since then … sick kids, cooking, cleaning, grading pre-calculus midterms, et cetera. We’re minutes a way from a quick trip for ice cream, which will yield smiles and soothe sore throats. I don’t experience one great big joy in my life. I have lots of part-time joy.