A writer is like a farmer.
A farmer's life is never really his own--his life is controlled by outside forces from the cattle he keeps to the weather that can either bless or curse him. Yet a farmer finds the wherewithal to press on in spite of fatigue, in spite of failures, in spite of yearning for something more. How? He is always working toward a goal--a contented cow in the barn, a loaf of bread on the table, and maybe even--money in the bank. And for that, he is willing to respond whenever the work calls--at all times of the day and night. A writer's life is something like that.
Our imagination doesn't understand day or night...it creates constantly, and if we want to capture the rough diamonds our mind unearths, we must be ready to write, endlessly. The tilling of the mind fields, the reaping, the harvesting, the pounding of the literary grain into something palatable --is endless.
If you are a writer, then you have my empathy. Write on. You will achieve your dream so long as you ignore the status quo, work when the sun shines or in the pitch dark of the wee hours of the morning, but work.
I am now 10 chapters and nearly 30-thousand words into Martha's Vine2. Only another 90-thousand words to go. One mind field at a time.