Where do you write? Home? Café? A mountain cabin, away from it all?
Oh dear, I sense a whole mess o' glib coming on.
My instinct is to say that I write whenever and wherever I can.
I remember sitting in the kitchen, trying to feed a screaming baby at 2am and simultaneously write down an idea on the back of a grocery list, an idea that had come to me at the precise moment my son's wailing woke me up, and which, given my general sleeplessness-induced dementia, was in real danger of disappearing.
That's all true but it also feels a little smug. Because no matter how difficult it's occasionally been to find the time and place to write, there's always guys who have it worse. There are several Criminal Minds who are trying to squeeze writing in between day jobs and families. And we all know how guilty you feel when you tell your loved ones you're blowing them off to write - and how soul-scorched you sometimes feel when you don't.
I've been very, very lucky to have been a stay-at-home mom for years, to have had the chance to be here for my kids especially when my husband's work took him out of town much of the time. My kids have never lacked for my attention, and I still put them first, every single day. And yet, my daughter has taken to asking me if I prefer my "book child" to her, and my son, not twenty minutes ago, told me I was "an unbelievably inattentive parent."
Because in the end it's not about the where. It's about the compulsion. If you got it, you do it, and that's that.