So, remember my tribute to Grandma Anna who passed away in August? And her final jab aimed to make me squirm: “Hey, Lisa [my wife]…when’s the baby coming?”

Well, turns out it was less of a jab and something far more eerie. You see, my wife was a couple of weeks pregnant, but we just didn’t know it yet.

Well, we think our alien baby is cute.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. This week is supposed to be about balance, and I do have a reason for the announcement of The New Ballou (or TNB for short) on this topic, but let me answer your questions first so we can get back on track.

• We’re thrilled and as ready as we’ll ever be.
• Our first.
• The wife is almost 17 weeks along with TNB expected Mid-May (very close to when GILT debuts).
• We haven’t found out if TNB is a boy or girl yet, but will before Christmas. I’m a planner, folks, there’s no WAY I could keep it a secret from myself.
• Yes, we’re very much enjoying sleep now. And freedom.
• Uh huh. I understand my life is about to change. A lot. Which bring us to the topic of the week…Balance.

First, a disclaimer: I’m *EXTREMELY* pumped about TNB – becoming a father is… the thing I was put on Earth to do.

However, to a lesser degree, I feel similarly about writing. It’s one of my top priorities. Up until now I’ve had to balance my writing with a full time job, a very accommodating wife, a (busy) tight-knit family, two awesome dogs, and my own bodily needs. A baby means…less time, more responsibility, fewer dollars, new priorities, and being way, way more exhausted. In summary, throwing TNB into the mix = goodbye current equilibrium. 

I’m like Katherine, fearful of loosing the ability to write. Honestly, I’ll admit to having long conversations with my writing tribe about what to expect. Am I going to have time to write? Will I fall asleep at the keyboard? Should I just kill the storyteller in me and hope he rises from the dead when the kids leave for college?

In one of those conversations, a friend mentioned that it’ll be a marathon – grueling, painful, and draining. “But,” she said, “People run marathons all the time.” And it hit me: I’ve run a marathon. I survived.  

How?

I trained.

Could I prepare for this shockingly new life? A task both infinitely harder and infinitely more rewarding.

I’m not sure – I’m coming up with it as I go along. But here are some of the things I learned in my marathon days, that I’m now applying:  

Set a goal: When I signed up for my marathon, other than my name, age, and credit card number, they asked me what time I wanted to hit. I happily selected the four hour box and moved on. Turns out, that feels a lot longer when you’re running…so I broke the pace down into just under nine minute miles. I can do almost anything for that long…I figured those intervals would stack up and, eventually, I’d be done with my race in a blaze of glory.

With TNB, I’ll keep setting goals. I’m not sure what will work, but I’m hoping for an hour per day. Now, even that might have to come in smaller chunks, but I can do an hour a day. (Even if it means skipping Modern Family – yes, even that).

Know the course: When getting ready for the race, I wanted to make sure I trained on a similar terrain. The route was hilly, so I made sure to find some hills to run on. Simple.

I understand my chunks of uninterrupted time are going to be pulverized. But babies sleep (sometimes – hopefully – maybe yours didn’t, but I’ve heard some do). Mommy takes them to the store. Grandparents babysit. There are lots of cracks in life where I hope to squeeze in my manuscript.

Currently, I’m training myself to write at these moments…I try 20 minutes here, 15 there. I stop mid-sentence and come back the next time, picking the thread up. At first, it was mighty difficult, but every time “getting into the zone” gets easier. Leaving a thought dangling has helped because it’s easy to finish a sentence...then not so hard to come up with the next one. Before I know it, the pages are a’flyin’.

Be in the right conditions: Same as knowing the course, I wanted to train in the right conditions. For example, my race started at 7am, so I ran many of my training runs groggy in the morning.

Speaking of groggy, another part of the baby-raising is being tired. It’s impossible to fathom the sheer level of exhaustion that TNB will bring. However, I’m learning to write in those instants where I cringe/yawn at the thought of opening the computer and finishing off that sentence. I set myself an easy goal: “Try it for 10 minutes, then go watch TV. You can do 10 minutes.” Most the time the 10 minutes turns into 20 or 30 or whenever I’m forced to stop.  

Get the right equipment: I was going to be living (or dying) in my running shoes, but after 26 miles, the socks, underwear, and rest of the garb become critical too. I didn’t nickel and dime. Getting the right stuff (within a good $ range) was more important than saving a little extra dinero.

THAT is a manly desk

As some of you may know, I’m a *Bux junkie. After May, spending countless hours there will end. I want to be home as much as possible. So, essentially, I’m reproducing all my *Bux comforts at home. It’ll be a lot more efficient to get to the changing table when I just have to walk a couple rooms over rather than a couple blocks. We got an awesome desk. (Tangent: It’s HUGE. As in Donald-Trump-eat-your-heart-out size. But I love it and I get excited about writing at it). And guess what I asked Santa to bring me. Yep, my very own espresso machine. 

                                                      Barista Bret, at your service.

Bring cheerleaders: I arranged for my cousins to show up at mile 18 to cheer me on. It was the moment when I was facing “The Wall” and their support got me up and (mostly) over it.

Between my wife, family, friends, and The Muses, I’ve got a whole Dallas Cowgirls lineup rooting for me. They all know how important being a father is to me, but also how much I care about writing. They’re already pushing me when I need it, listening when I need that, and generally, just keeping me on track. Best of all, they’re committed to keeping me going when I’m facing “The Wall.”

Wear the dinky medal proudly: When I finally crossed the finish line, they handed me the same medal they handed the other 25,000 runners. Before collapsing into a sweaty heap, I looked at the clock. After all the training – doing all the right things – I was sure to be minutes under my four hour goal.

NOPE.

My time was four hours, one minute, and a handful of seconds. Yep, over 26 miles and I missed my target by a G-D#%$ minute. But, you know what? I plopped my feet in the ice bath and enjoyed my accomplishment.

I planned to say something inspiring here about not letting something like a G-D#%$ minute get in the way of true success. That I had to learn to forgive myself and will have to do so when I miss my writing goals due to baby duty. But, honestly, Talia nailed it on Wednesday and I don’t want to compete with her perfect post on the subject.

So to all those who made it to the end of this ridiculously long post: Congrats, you’ve completed a marathon of your own.

Here’s a medal. 

+++++

P.S. Make sure to swing by Monday, because we're launching another contest! 

(Folks, it's a doozy this time - I'm jealous that I can't win)

Warning: Written while sleep-deprived and revision-impaired. Do not operate heavy machinery while reading this post.

It's tough to talk about struggling to find balance after Talia's post yesterday. I would say Talia and I are on opposite ends of the spectrum. For the past year, I've had the privilege of writing full-time. Before I go any further, I want to reiterate that it is a privilege. I'm very fortunate. It might not always be this way, and I don't for a moment take it for granted. Just over a year ago, I dreamt of being in this position. Dreamt about it. How many people can truly say they are living a dream? 

When I say I write, "full time," I mean it in a literal sense. For me, 2011 has been a sprint to complete Book One, and draft and revise Book Two. It's been a year of blogging, struggling to blog, tweeting, learning to market, trying to stay organized, trying to process what's happening, website... website... how hard is it to get a website together? Well, when you're doing a gazillion other things, and you hit a patch of bad luck, it's hard. 

My days are spent in front of the computer, and much of the time, I feel the world blowing around me, a separate force that I sneak glances of, here and there. Like Donna said, as a writer, I exist in my imagination. If any of you have read UNDER THE NEVER SKY, I exist in a Realm -- the Realm of my story world. My kids are growing up in fast-forward. (Older son today, after I filled out a field trip permission slip: "Thanks, Mom. Nice doing business with you.") My friends say I have disappeared ("I'm not going to call anymore, because I don't want to bother you. You call me when you can talk." Ouch.) My husband... he's around here somewhere, isn't he? Babe? Where are you? And groceries? Home-cooked meals? Myths from the past. Relics from another life. There is no time, and there is far too much to do.

And yet, the writing Realm is a beautiful place to exist, so many hours of the day. You writers out there know how it feels to write a great description. Find that exact shade of emotion--that subtle nuance that makes a scene, or a moment pop. We create worlds when we write. We mold them and mull over them and mold again, and then stand back and say, yes. That is what I believe. That is what is true.

I struggle every day to look up from the screen. I struggle to find time for the writing things, and the family things, and everything else. But I accept that there is no perfect in real life. And I remind myself to enjoy the teetering, tottering balancing act. It's the road, not the destination. The act of balancing, not balance itself. That is what I believe is true.

In other news....

MY BOOK COMES OUT IN ONE MONTH. 

Someone please resuscitate me. Thanks.

It is only fitting that I am writing about finding a life balance from a hotel room late at night.  I've spent the day going from meeting- to phone call- to attempt to update my data plan so I could read email- to deposition- to phone call- to Starbucks for the free wi-fi so I could check my email- to meeting- to desk- to car- to San Francisco, so I can get up and do it all over again.  It doesn't help that I'm walking like a zombie thanks to strained quads from navigating twenty eight flights of stairs yesterday (false alarm), or that I didn't leave the office again until one in the morning.

And that's just the day job.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my job.  As a litigation attorney, I write, I tell stories, I help people through stressful situations, and every now and then I get to go to trial and get my Susan Dey on.  But I can't always control how busy my caseload will be.  At a minimum, I can count on 60 hours of work a week.


I'm strictly a weekend warrior when it comes to writing.  I don't write during the week.  When I get home in the evenings, I just want to unwind, rest my brain and hang out with my family.  It  doesn't mean I'm not making progress on my manuscript. My commute time is my brainstorming time, a quiet space to listen to music and let ideas compost.  So while I won't open my manuscript from Sunday night until Saturday morning, I'm already thinking about the next scene or turning point, planning how to handle a point raised in my edit letter or just playing with a shiny new idea.

The family needs time too.  Kids need to get to guitar lessons, Saint Bernards need to get to the dog park.  Lunch needs to get-who am I kidding?- the family needs to go out to eat.

There's always more to do.  Blog posts, web site content, laundry.  So many things clamoring for attention.  How do I find balance?

Here's a secret.  I don't.

Sometimes I think we try too hard to find some perfect balance- as if we can be the perfect wife, mother, professional, writer and house manager all at one time. There is no such thing.

Relax.

There will times in your life when all you can do is eat, sleep and run from one meeting to the next until you collapse for a few hours and do it all again.

There will be times when your family will have to come above everything else.  When you have to drop everything to help a loved one, celebrate a special occasion or take a vacation.

There will be times in your life when your writing must be a priority.  When you're nearing a deadline that can't be extended or getting an idea down on paper before its lost forever.

And in between there will be quieter moments.  Time to browse in a book store, go to a movie or have coffee with a friend.

Embrace them all.   Even the stress-filled crazy ones.  Find things and people you love and surround yourself with them.  Don't waste those precious moments with your family worrying that you haven't nailed that tricky scene yet. Don't beat yourself up because you're working on your manuscript while the rest of the family is at a movie.

Make your choices.

Live in the moment.

Because that's as close to a life balance as most of us will ever get.

I wrote a post a few weeks ago about my greatest writing fear – not being able to write.  And yes, that idea still terrifies me.  But as I look back on the past few weeks, I realize that this is something I’ve just lived through. 

You see, one of the reasons this terrifies me is because for the past three years I have not stopped writing.  My mind is always, always busy.  And writing totally feeds that, and feeds off of it.  This is one of the reasons I love it so much.  While on vacation, I jot down ideas, do research, and sometimes even write or revise entire chapters.  On weekends, I read research books and take notes.  While my kids are skiing, I sit in the lodge (with my coffee and cinnamon roll) and revise.  I mull over ideas while I drive and shower and cook and try to fall asleep.  My kids made up a club during the summer.  It’s the MWTM club – Mom Writes Too Much.

Ouch.

But I worry that even pausing for a moment, inertia could extinguish the creative fire.  I feel like a writing shark – if I stop, I die.  (And yes, Bret, I totally stole that from your favorite Glee quote.)  I do spend time doing other things, and I do enjoy other things, but I have to write.  Something.  Every day.  And not writing is a symptom of a terrible evil -- writer's block.

I sent in a (very) rough draft of Book 2 to my editor at the beginning of October.  And immediately dove into research for Book 3.  I wrote the synopsis.  I wrote the first five pages.  But because I have such a difficult time switching gears, I held off writing too much.  So I also took down ideas for revision. I went through the Letters and Papers of Henry VIII in painstaking detail to make sure I got all the locations and characters correct.  I got my first pass pages for GILT, spent a week on them, and then...stopped.

Cue Katy, paralyzed.

I literally did not know what to do next.  It was like that point in the middle of a novel where you pause over the keyboard and pause and pause and pause because you don’t know what happens next.  What happens next? Push on through Book 3 even if I don’t have the voice right?  Take my own notes for revision on Book 2, even though I don't know what my editorial letter will say?  I was like a great Pushmi-pullyu, completely unable to move forward on anything.

Veronica said to enjoy it.  The peace.  The calm before the deadline storm.  Get some other things done – Christmas shopping, family time, cooking.  And I totally get that.  I could subscribe to it.  But there’s this terror that if I stop, I die. 

And then Thanksgiving came.  And I purposefully focused on not writing.  I played Monopoly with my kids.  I went shopping (not on Black Friday, are you kidding??) with my mom.  I talked books with my dad and showed off my ARCs.  I watched Lark Rise to Candleford with my husband.

I relaxed.

I still don’t know when I’ll revise Book 2.  I’ve re-started Book 3 and remember why first drafts are so bloody difficult.  I still have research to do.  But somehow, it all seems easier.  I don’t know what happens next.  But that’s OK.

I’m still afraid I’ll lose my momentum.  I’m still afraid I don’t have another book in me.  I think these fears will always be there.  But I’m also afraid I’ll lose touch with the real, as Donna mentioned yesterday.  I need to find the balance.  And last week helped.  I think that’s why I’m telling you this.

I didn’t write last week.  And it didn’t kill me.  How's that for balance?

When I was a child, my family spent one week a summer at a lake house in the hill country outside of Austin. My aunt, uncle and cousins would go, too, and the two families would crowd into the house for a week of boating, water skiing, swimming and hiking.

Much to my older sister's frustration, my week was also full of reading. I couldn't wait to explore the uncensored bookcases full of paperback novels left by previous vacationers. There were so many books (and authors) I had never seen on the children's shelves of the library. It was a whole new world and was in direct conflict with the "real" world outside.

My sister tried every guilt trick she could think of to get me to put the books down. The conversation usually ended with her storming off to "have fun without me." Within minutes, I was already back in the worlds created by authors like Agatha Christie, Daphne DuMaurier, Victoria Holt, and John Le Carre.

Don't worry. I didn't stay inside and read for my WHOLE vacation (although I'm sure my sister would claim otherwise). I swam and boated and water skied, but the struggle between the "head" world vs. the "real" world has continued throughout my life.

Balancing the time to write a novel and be in the real world is challenging. Sometimes beyond challenging. But, more than the time management needed to get the actual story onto the page, there is the other reality of living stories out in your head. The "head" world is a tempting one--full of mystery and adventure and passion and imagination. Sometimes it's a book I'm reading and other times it's a book I'm creating. The other world--the "real" one--is often full of car repairs and mortgage payments and business meetings and stuffy noses. Finding some sort of equilibrium between the two worlds is difficult and sometimes hard for significant others to understand.

Even though the balance isn't easy, I don't have a magic wand to fix it and, the truth is, I probably don't want to. One world needs the other. There's nothing better than solving murders in England with Agatha Christie, then closing the book, and going outside to jump off a boat dock into a shimmering lake. Or driving downtown to stop at a traffic light and suddenly realizing I've solved the plot problem in chapter three. Or nodding at inappropriate times at a dinner party because I'm listening to the dialogue in my head instead of the conversation at the table.

I sincerely apologize to those people in my life (including my sister) who have experienced that blinking, unfocused stare upon re-entry into your world. Sometimes I lose my balance. I spend too much time in one world and not enough time in the other. But, even though I am sorry, I won't stop looking through both sides of the mirror.