GOD: Hold it! Wasn't writing what you were going to do when the kids started to school? You planned to sit at the computer every day undisturbed allowing creative juices to flow like milk and honey. You vowed to knock out a book every other year. What happened to that?

ME: I've been busy, that's what. It's not easy being a woman.

GOD: Busy doing what? The kids are long out of school, Missy. They're married and live in California. Your son has a hairline like the coast of Louisiana and your daughter's middle-age spread is the size of Oklahoma. Why are you still talking about setting the publishing world on fire?

ME: Like I said, there's not enough time to get everything done. I promise myself every morning to spend eight hours typing my fingers to the bone.

GOD: So why don't you?

ME: Duh! Who would buy the groceries, cook, clean, do the laundry, feed the cat and dog, take them to the vet and the groomer, go to the post office, make bank deposits and get prescriptions filled at the drugstore? After I've done all that, I'm too tired to think. I can't write if I can't think, can I?

GOD: I've noticed that people generally do what they want to do.

ME: No, they don't.

GOD: Yes, they do. And don't contradict me. It's not nice to argue with God. I know for a fact that successful writers take themselves seriously. NOT writing is so NOT an option for them.

ME: Yeah, right. Writers are Olympian procrastinators. Everybody knows that.

GOD: You're missing the point.

ME: Which is?

GOD: If your dream is to become an author, then it's up to you to find a way to make it happen. Time equals energy and energy is a commodity. You can burn it all up making excuses, or you can redirect it by creating space that will enable your dream to become a reality.

ME: I asked for a few additional hours, God, not a lesson in quantum physics. Creating space where there isn't any might sound like a plan to you, but it will never work for me.

GOD: And why is that?

ME: Because nobody takes me seriously. They think writing is a hobby.

GOD: If you want to be taken seriously, you have to take yourself seriously.

ME: Are you kidding me? If my husband comes home from playing golf and finds me at my computer writing my little heart out, do you know what will happen?

GOD: What?

ME: He'll say, 'What's for dinner?' Then I'll say, there is no dinner because I didn't cook. He'll say, why not, so I'll say, because I was writing my little heart out and taking myself seriously. And by the way dear, it would be way nice for you to take me seriously, too.

GOD: Sounds okay to me. What's wrong with that?

ME: Not gonna happen, that's what.

GOD: Okay, try this. Set aside one day a week to do the things that prevent you from writing.

ME: Like what?

GOD: Hello?! Like cooking?

ME: Need I remind YOU that you designed us humans with a built-in eating schedule. i.e., three meals a day, 24-7. Once a week ain't gonna cut it at my house, Boss.

GOD: (Sigh) Okay, so here's what you do: put aside one afternoon and cook enough meals for one whole week. Tap into those creative juices of yours. Spaghetti, soup, casseroles.

ME: My family doesn't like casseroles.

GOD: Then think TV Dinners. I gave the world the microwave, didn't I? Show your husband how to operate the thing. He'll learn in no time.

ME: I already told you ... it will never work.

GOD: And I told YOU not to argue with me. I'm God.

ME: If I do it your way, I still have all those errands to run. What do I do about that?

GOD: I hatched up a little something with the Pope called the Gregorian Calendar back in 1582 A.D. Buy a new one. Get yourself organized.

ME: Something that old can't possibly help me get organized. It's the Twenty-first Century, for heaven's sake.

GOD: (sigh) I KNOW what year it is. Use a calendar. Keep appointments. While the dog is being groomed, get a haircut, pick up dry cleaning, buy groceries, and mail packages while prescriptions are being filled. Inundate yourself with busy work and all you'll write is a weekly grocery list.

ME: But, God. It takes so much time to do everything, and I'm just one person, and ...

GOD: Okay, that's it. We're done here.

ME: But nothing's changed. You said you'd give me more hours.

GOD: (sigh) I should have kept some of that patience I bestowed on Job! Listen up, Missy. If I give you more hours, the Gregorians will protest chant from sunup to sundown. I showed you how to create more time to pursue your goals instead. Didn't you hear me?

ME: I heard you, God. I just can't see myself doing those things. It just isn't me.

GOD: Whoops! Would you look at the time? Gotta run. I need to see a man with a funny sounding name who managed to get himself elected President and now he REALLY needs my help. See ya ...