Actually, sleep would be my friend if I were allowed any. The baby has kept me up for 2 hours in the middle of both of the previous nights. I was so tired yesterday afternoon I could barely hold my head up at work. When both kids were in bed by 8:45, I should have pulled out the laptop and gotten to work. Instead I read for a little while and then slept. But after 2 hours of sleep, he was up and fussing, from midnight until almost 2am--my husband and I kept alternating walking/rocking/soothing him. The magic mommy milk didn't work. His daddy's patented super baby hold didn't work. Today is not fun.
Add that to the characters and plot lines, scenes and conversations, running through my head that will not be quiet. This is worse, much much worse than any song--even worse than my 3-year old's cd's that have nice, catchy tunes and easy-to-understand lyrics. I wonder if writing a book is this way for other people? I guess it ought to be my motivation to just get it written...that way I can have my daydreams back again.
I'm close to fessing up to my husband what I'm doing. I feel like a bit of a sneak--he must think I've got some sort of cyberlover or something with how much time I've been on the computer lately. But as soon as I admit it, then I will have to tell people how it's going. And there's no guarantee that he won't tell other people. And then they'll ask. And sooner or later someone will want to read my work. And that's where the paralyzing fear sets in. Much better (in theory) to do it on my own and not tell anyone until I'm successful and have something worth sharing. So I believe.