We writers come in all shapes and sizes and stages of life.
Some of us are married, some aren't.
Of those who are in relationships, some have their biggest cheerleader and most awesome critique partner in their significant other, while others work quietly on the home front alone.
My dashingly handsome sidekick is amazing, but he's a scientist, not a writer. He reads non-fiction and sports columns and geology magazines, not kidlit.
Do I love him? Absolutely.
Do I feel supported by him in my writing? Yes. But quietly supported. Sometimes I'm telling him about my WiP and he gets a look on his face that's probably similar to the look on my face when he's trying to explain rocks to me.
We love each other, we support each other, but we have a lot of different interests.
We went to the ocean on an extended family vacation recently and I brought the laptop along. My goal was to finish my edit BEFORE the vacation, but it didn't happen, so I worked on my book at night when the kids were in bed and the adults were playing board games in a different room.
I didn't mind missing out. I'm not a big game-playing person and I needed the relaxation that comes from writing and, because I'm an introvert, the space.
Still, I don't think the DHS quite understood why I was choosing to write instead of being involved with the family. We worked it out, but I know my writing takes its toll on him sometimes. He'd rather I be involved than hiding away with my laptop. I try to be careful with the time I spend, but you know ... there's only so many hours in the day.
That's why what happened this last week meant so much to me.
My laptop went out.
The battery has been dead for a while, so it had to be constantly plugged in. And then the power cord went out.
For the few days of waiting for a new power cord and battery to arrive, I decided to take a break from writing.
I told the DHS about this decision.
A couple days passed and, toward the end of one day he asked, "Did the new cord come for the laptop yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Oh, that's too bad." He seemed genuinely sad for me.
I didn't know if he was just being polite, so I added facetiously, "Why? Because you miss me writing my book SO much?"
"No," he said, smiling. "Because I know how much you enjoy it."
My heart did a little skip when he said that. It's nice to feel supported, to feel like you have the space you need to pursue a dream.
How about you? Do the people in your life understand your passion and encourage you in it?