#62 Read It, decide it could probably be about half as long.

I love Stephen King, and I get he's trying to set up an atmosphere of epic evil in the town of Derry, but a whole lot of extra story fits in 1138 pages. Did I really need to know how Ben Hanscom lost all of his extra weight? Or detailed stories (the Derry "Interludes") for every single strange event to happen in Derry over one hundred years?

Maybe I did. Fantasy is better when it's epic, I suppose, but reading It was like reading A Feast for Crows with no Tyrion and no Daenerys - I really had to commit myself to stay interested.

My favorite Classic Horror Novels

#61 Enter "Defy the Dark" story contest at Figment.com, daydream of ways to spend the $500 first prize.

That's how "manifesting" works, right?

Defy the Dark at Figment.com

#60 Buy a "fixer-upper".

Strip wallpaper. Patch holes. Sand. Paint. Tomorrow...who knows??! The possibilities are endless!!!

#59 Hire a babysitter for writing time; spend four hours feeling weirdabout it.

Ten years ago, in the middle of graduate school, I decided it would be a great idea to also get married and have a baby. I was 25, the age of Jumping Into Everything At Once, and so the task of accomplishing three major life events in one year seemed reasonable.

Children are front and center (and #3 on this list) of how I avoid writing. Writing while parenting is possible, but it is hard, people. One child was enough to keep me busy and distracted from writing for years. How could I dream up fictional worlds with an adorable child dragging me back to reality, demanding fruit snacks, trips to the park, more milk, SpongeBob? Many writers are parents, but years went by before I slowly began to find balance between parenting and writing.

Then I had another baby.

So here I am again, searching for that balance, writing in rushed moments between shaping the fragile ego of a ten-year-old and nurturing an infant in her formative first years. No one person can do all this, of course. So Nathan and I found the perfect babysitter, a kind and capable person, a nurse, a woman with whom we were already acquainted. This very morning, the ten-year-old is at school, learning and engaging in the beginning stages of forming her life without me, and the one-year-old is safe in the hands of an excellent caregiver. I have the next 4 hours--4 hours!--to write.

And here I sit, worrying about my children.

Such is the paradox of parenthood: wanting so badly some free time for yourself, then freaking out about it when it's given to you.

But I persevere. I wrote this blog post, didn't I? Now I only have 3 hours, 12 minutes left to go...

#58 Choose sleep.

Even the harried working parents of small children receive an entire block of time when they are supposed to rest, when they are expected to stop and recharge. Sleep is my last safe place, my only potential for a full eight hours of quiet time to myself, during which no one requires my attention or my care or even my presence.

I give up part of this precious time in order to write. Every morning, I wake at 4am to write until 7am, when it's time to wake Evelyn for school and to listen for Mina to begin chatting quietly in her crib. For three hours, I  sip coffee and write without interruption. I enjoy it immensely.

Except when I don't. You see, when one rises at 4am, one inevitably fights exhaustion by early evening. That means, especially after Daylight Saving Time over the weekend, I was struggling to stay awake past sunset.

Hence, my early-morning writing time has crept forward from 4 am to 5, then to 5:30, and then what-the-hell, this morning I didn't roll out of bed until past 7.

But I feel better. Extra sleep pays off, if not in writing time, then at least in feeling-like-a-human time.

#57 Finally update your computer, maybe blog more often than twice a year.

I have an embarrassing secret, but it is one that I suspect I share with many. The computer I used up until yesterday was purchased seven years ago. A charming HP system of yesteryear, it boasted the laid-back approach to speed and enthusiasm typical of the elderly. Approximately twelve-thousand years old in technological years, it has well earned its retirement to the recycle bin.

The old computer had a speed similar to the long, pre-caffeine walk to my office at 5am (i.e., slow). Therefore, I did not use it often, and even less so after we moved to our new house over Christmas. My justification for this new system is that I will accomplish so much more writing with it, mark my words!

We decided on the HP Touchsmart, which is this all-in-one-PC-media-center-type thing, whatever, that does all kinds of fun stuff. Hence, I've done everything but write with it: watch TV, load photos, download Skype, organize recipes. It is speedy and gorgeous and superfun, which is why Nathan, Evelyn, and I unpacked it yesterday evening and commenced fighting over it while Mina observed us for the shallow and materialistic dweebs that we are.

I won the fight, because I am the Mom.

See above: my victory web-cam shot.