Let me explain a little bit about the life of a writer.
We have a tough job, but it's what we love. It's not always easy and stories aren't always pouring out of my mind. I wish they were.
As for myself, I also have a 2 year old daughter. She requires my attention as well. I have a home to care for. And a boyfriend to care for and spend time with so he doesn't end up feeling forgotten or neglected.
I have a page I try to run. A blog I attempt to run. Illustrations that need drawn.
I do crafts daily with my child and learning time. I have cooking to do, meals to cook, baths to give, stories to read, songs to sing, boo boo's to kiss, castles to build from blocks, and still must find some quiet time for myself so I can write.
As of now, those moments are few and far between.
Do I expect pity or sympathy? No. But I do expect respect. I demand respect.
I've been writing for nearly 25 years. I've poured my heart and soul into this.
My job is never over. There are no weekends. No vacations. No time off. Between writing and being a mother, I'm always on the clock.
I may not leave the house to head to a 9-5 job, but that doesn't make what I do, what authors do, any less important.