I have a new book out, which is really exciting. It’s called Projection, and it’s set in two different time periods: one in present day California, one in Ancient Rome. In present day California, three teenaged girls are using a two thousand year-old secret to trade souls and solve a murder. In Ancient Rome, the philosopher Plotinus and his young disciple Gemina have just perfected this secret, and are discovering just how dangerous it is. One reviewer called it “Freaky Friday meets The DaVinci Code,” which I think is a pretty cool description.
But my point in telling you this is not to promote my book (ok, maybe it is a little, but I kind of have to do that, because, you know, it’s my book, and nobody else is promoting it). I’m telling you this because I’m kind of freaking out that I’m never going to have time to write another book ever again, or at least not until my kids go to college.
Since I started writing ten years ago, I’ve always prided myself on being able to write while still more or less being a stay at home mom. I’d take my kids to school in the morning, I’d write until pickup, and then I’d take them to their little one hour activities, make dinner, give them baths and put them to bed. Most nights, after putting them to bed at seven-thirty, I’d write for a few hours after they went to sleep. People always asked me how I did it, like it was some kind of miracle. But I was just efficient with my time, and I’d take a year to write each book; somehow, it all just worked.
But now that my kids are older, it’s not working anymore. Or rather, I’m not working anymore. At all. It just seems like now, I drop my kids off at school, and then I spend all day running errands for them. My daughter is running for class officer, so she needed poster board and letter stickers, and she had this idea to put candy wrappers on her poster, so I ran around looking for Peeps in the middle of September. Do you know how hard it is to find Peeps in September?
Last week, she needed a white, v-neck tee shirt for a school project, so I went to Target to get it for her. But the City Target near my house didn’t have it, so I had to go to a real, full-sized Target half an hour away. She needs a refill on her allergy medicine, she needs a haircut appointment, she needs to see a dermatologist about this thing on her eyelid. She’s outgrown all of her underwear, she needs a dress for a Bar Mitzvah next weekend, and oh, yeah, she’s out of toothpaste.
I feel like I’m a full-time personal assistant for my own child. And my son - holy cow, the kid eats me out of house and home. I have never met a hungrier person. If Goldfish were actual fish, he would put them on the endangered species list all by himself. I find myself having to stop at the market every other day just to keep our pantry stocked for him and all of his grow-iness.