I'm not sure what I thought when I started out writing. The ideal was far from the actual, which I'm sure everyone's heard before but writing a novel with three young children hanging off your arms (literally!) as you type is quite the challenge.
There's no Stephenie Myer moments where you're cuddled up in bed, slapping away at the keys of your laptop while your children sleep. By the time my kids were in bed I was catatonic, sitting on the couch with my arms limply at my sides while my husband asked me what I did today and I flung him the ipad with the next chapter or next 300 words or whatever I had managed to get out that day.
Don't get me wrong. I loved it, every minute of it, the writing part that is. What I didn't love was how selfish I felt for doing it and how delightfully creative my kids became in their attempts to interrupt me.
My first recommendation if you're thinking of writing with kids in the general vicinity is DO NOT get a computer chair on wheels. Get something sturdy, preferably weighing 2 tonnes and possibly nailed to the floor.
Some of my sentences looked like this: She stepped inside the entrance her insides twisting as she gdowfsnmg...=== ugfe.... As my hands were dragged then my body as well across the desk and into the wall by my three year old daughter who wanted milk, NOW!
My elder two would just stand on the wheeled legs and jiggle me back and forth as I tried to finish my thoughts, screaming "Mummy, are you listening to me?" To which I would reply, "No." Tap, tap, tap, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.
This probably makes me sound like a terrible mother but the truth is I spend 95% of my time ferrying, cooking, cleaning (well, not very much cleaning) and taking care of my family. The other 5% is for me, it's harrying and worrying and all together crazy but great fun.