MY HAPPY LITTLE LONELY WORLD

Writing is a secluded occupation. An imbalanced profession where the writer must put his needs first or not yield any profit. Personally, I need peace and quiet, my own uninterrupted space to write constructively. When I'm in the throes of a new story, I resent any invasion on my world. I defend my world. Hoard it. Protect it. Shelter it. Alas, world invasions are not exclusive to fantasy novels or blockbuster movies, they are a fact of life. 

So, how does one defend one's world without murdering, cursing, insulting, annihilating all alien (and familial) threat? 

How do I not do the groceries so my kids can have wholesome meals? Or ignore phone calls from friends? Stop Facebooking? Not entertain guests who've come to visit from 3000 miles away? 

And yet, if I don't do all of that. If I don't cull out my own time and space and reject the outside world, I will never get any writing done. 

It is a difficult conundrum that I deal with on a day to day basis and sometimes wonder how the authors that have gone before me (some having written 200 plus novels and still going) did it? How did they juggle their two worlds? How did they find that balance that makes everyone happy? Or is balance an illusion? How does one stop a cosmic explosion?

Anyone have any ideas?

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URBAN LEGENDS

Here's a fantastic February fable for you. Please excuse the alliteration, I'm trying to get into the right writing spirit.

Someone told me this story just the other day. In the middle of some night somewhere close to you, a man complained of breathlessness and chest pain to his wife. Frazzled, the wife decided not to call for an ambulance and bundled up her husband in the car and drove him to the closest ER herself. Now, their hospital has 2 entrances for ER: one for ambulances and first responders and the other, just around the corner for the common folk who drove into ER. The lady and her husband not realizing this distinction, stopped the car outside the ambulance entrance and started banging on the glass doors of the ER. Obviously, they didn't open and no security guard or medical personnel stood in sight or hearing distance. The wife stood there banging and screaming, her husband gasping and sweating, for a good five minutes when a nurse suddenly appeared behind the doors and let them in. She told them of their folly and directed them to the check in office from inside. Then she disappeared, presumably to do her job. After the husband was checked in and stable and everything was taken care of to perfection, the wife asked after the Good Samaritan nurse called Maria Something or other. Imagine their shock when they were informed that no nurse by that name worked in ER or for that matter in the whole hospital. The wife and husband insisted that there was and that they wanted her found so they could offer their gratitude. They even described her vividly. After several days, when the husband was discharged with a clean bill of health, they again asked after the nurse. The nurses department told them that there no longer was a Maria Something working in ER. But there had been until six months ago when she'd died of natural causes. Her ID picture confirmed that's who the couple had seen and spoken to.

Yeah, freaky. And here I don't believe in ghosts but I believe the groundhog picked Spring over Winter :)

So who do you think opened the ER doors for the couple? Do you have creepy stories to share?