I’m crazy, I know, but by May, I was really looking forward to summer break. It would be so great to have my children around and not have to drive to school, preschool, and then do the hour-long preschool/school pickup run anymore. We wouldn’t be tied down. We’d go fun places on weekends. We’d do our “DIY Summer Camp” again. My kids would be kids and I’d get to be there. I’d even planned my writing schedule around this summer break.

But then the rest of my life happened. We moved. We have so. much. crap!! We’re still unpacking (oy!). My first book came out. Promotion abhors a vacuum. I have a tiny baby, so I don’t actually sleep.

Possibly biggest of all, writing (on the sequel to I, Spy) draaaaaaagged. I was hoping to have the book done before the baby came—February would have been nice, but I didn’t want to push myself while pregnant. March was absorbed by I, Spy prep. April, I had a baby. May, I prepared for my conference gig and the book launch—and then I had to get the first quarter of the sequel to my critique group. (Fortunately, I’d written that far.)

I spent June and into the first week of July editing and writing and editing. It seemed like that was all I did. (Well, that and unpacking and feeding the baby.) It never ended. I still tried to make sure we did fun things: swim lessons, family outings to the pool, visits to a local rodeo & other events, even visiting family, but I also hooked up Netflix. When it was too hot to play outside (more often than you’d think in a place like Utah), my kids spent way too much time vegging.

Meanwhile, I spent way too much time at the computer, procrastinating the actual work because it was so overwhelming, or spinning my wheels. I just couldn’t get any traction—I think largely because I hated how my story was turning out.

The good news is that my critique group faithfully got me through that time. Not only did they read my blerg first drafts (generally I try to send them my third drafts) and help me fix them, but most of all, they somehow divined exactly what I wanted (and needed!) to do with this plot and these characters, and gave me the encouragement and the push to get it there.

Unfortunately, the one thing they couldn’t give me was time.

Finally, when we went out of town for a family vacation, I just had to let. it. go. for a while. Pushing myself harder only brought me closer to one thing: burnout. It didn’t matter that I was truly months behind schedule, as much as that stressed me out. I had more important things to do for at least those few weeks, especially with summer break quickly coming to a close.

After we got back, I tried for more balance. I’d pick at least one activity a day to focus on my kids (aside from chores and meal time, so it’s not like they’re totally neglected!). We blew bubbles and ate popsicles. We served our neighbors. We tried to explore our new community. We had some fun. I still felt very stressed and guilty about the state of my novel, but a little less so about the state of my family.

School starts this week, and we’re all very ready. I could end up with a couple hours a day to work without (much) guilt! By some miracle (AKA my husband), I got enough time and mustered the focus to attack several of the biggest changes in the novel. I’ve made out my schedule for the rest of the changes, and there’s still a ton to go, but for the first time in months, Saturday night I went to bed satisfied with the shape my book is finally taking.

Much as I’ll relish the structure and the time to myself, I’m still sad to see the freedom of summer go when in many ways it feels like I’ve wasted it.

What do you think? Does writing ever pile up on you? “How do you find balance?” I type while my kids scream in the other room and I’m feeding the baby . . .)

Photo credits: Summer—Patrick via Flickr & CC; beach boy—Diana Franklin