Writing is a solitary occupation. Family, friends, and society are the natural enemies of the writer. He must be alone, uninterrupted, and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
I do not write alone.
I barely visit the restroom alone.
And if I were to only write when I could write without interruption, well, I'm guessing all my posts would be approximately 4.721 words in length.
As I've been sitting here typing away, I have given instruction for 4 of 8 to hit the bathtub. I given a step-by-step procedure for slicing cheese. And presently, 3 of 8 is standing at my shoulder, trying to determine if Cup O'Soup can have an expiration date.
You know how brain researchers say that you can't hold two thoughts in your head at the same time?
They apparently never bothered to interview mommy bloggers.
The irony of my writing environment really hit home when I was working on yesterday's Sunday Selah. The main theme was on distraction, how distraction can keep us from yielding spiritual fruit. And in the middle of encouraging others to focus on the Lord, to focus on the Word, I was simultaneously issuing edicts on sibling relationship guidelines and the rules for playing Skip-Bo.
I know I am not alone out there.
So I want to hear your best weird blogging story. Where was the strangest place you wrote a post? What are the most hilarious circumstances surrounding your blogging happy place? Come on, 'fess up. If you really do have a lovely ivory tower surrounded by blooming vines where you compose in quiet, feel free to tell us that (though we may have to engage in a little mocking...) But if you find yourself hiding in your master closet so that you can finish four more sentences that don't include random items that need to go on your grocery list, be sure and tell that one too. Write a url of your post and your name in the Mister Linky's box below or write your experience in a comment.
And as I was typing the above paragraph, I actually had to scold a couple of the kids that it is not allowed in this house for them to eat grated Parmesan cheese out of the container, pouring in into their palms and popping it into their mouths.
We use a spoon to eat straight Parmesan cheese, like civilized folk....