I was reading a magazine the other day and happened across this gem from author Candia McWilliam (A Case of Knives, What to Look for in Winter), who said basically, each of her children cost her an unwritten book – a price she felt male authors didn’t have to pay – because of the time and money she spend raising them.
As a 30 something who’s been married almost 10 years (and 11 years with Hubs), the question of kids does come up now and then. Hubs and I are on the same page, but I understand why others would wonder, ‘why haven’t they procreated yet?’ It’s basically for statements like the one above. I don’t know if I would be able to *not* blame my hypothetical children for these unwritten books. Of course, it seems highly immature for me to blame kids for my future and unrealized successes. There are numerous authors who are also mothers, who found time to write and be leaders in their genre. However, I can’t help but be selfish. Even if I was to become a crazy successful author, I think I would still put off having kids.
At least now, the only person I have to blame for my lack of success is me.