I have a problem with writing. Before everyone shouts out various reasons, let me eliminate some of the normal maladies. I don't have writer's block - in fact, I have so many ideas in my head right now I'm pretty sure I lose some every time I go to the bathroom. I've only watched around 10 minutes of television since the new year started, so you can scratch Writer's Rot off the list. And the excuse that other authors are stealing my work...well, it's not cutting it. Except for Ms. Rowling - I know you stole my Tarry Botter idea!

At this moment, the problem I have with writing involves a series of skirmishes with an enemy fierce enough to smack me so hard I come around after several moons have risen and fallen over the Earth's horizon. It's an evil-doer so harsh it sucks my energy to the point I collapse on the keyboard in an exhausted heap.

Basically, I'm in a battle with Time.

It wasn't always this way. There was one point that Time and I were the best of friends, probably when I was younger and didn't have to worry about a family, job, finances, or how many more episodes of Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo remain until television executives put the show out of its misery. There were long expanses where Time stretched those minutes and hours out for maximum enjoyment. Sure, he sometimes lengthened those seconds during school or a visit to a chain-smoking relative who smelled like Vicks and Southern Comfort, but those were infrequent.

Unfortunately, it hasn't been that way in recent memory. Truth be told, I believe Time is involved in some sort of financial crisis, because he's been shortening the minutes and seconds for several years. Where a day used to last 24 hours, it's now somewhere in the area of about 15.2356 hours and a handful of seconds. There are even moments when I start typing away at 9 a.m. and, an hour later, it's 3 p.m. and I need to pick the kids up from school.

This is the reason I'm warring with Time. As soon as I committed myself to a full schedule of writing at the beginning of the year, Time has attempted to thwart me at every avenue. Items breaking around the house, appointments, sick children, the 24 hour marathon of Charles in Charge...Time has thrown all of these at me at one point or another this month to dislodge my plan. I believe he's also reading my mind. Whenever I mentally put together a daily task list, Time reads it and makes significant changes.

I've tried to work with Time by getting up a little earlier or staying up later to write, but he doesn't want to know about it. Even attempts at uncluttering my life to focus on writing have been a struggle between us. It's getting so frustrating that I have to restrain from pulling out the rest of what minuscule amounts of hair remain on my head.

Sadly, negotiations have not gone well, and a full-out war with Time seems imminent. However, because I have the weapons of hard-work, goals, and commitment, I'm ready to fight hard to defeat Time, at least for the present. Once I become a wealthy and famous author, Time and I can become friends again. Until that moment, let's get ready to rumble.