Monkey Business- How and Why I Write…

By Hilde Garcia

Sunday afternoon. I drive my beat up old car. The radio blares a rock station. There are no child car seats in my car, no children, no errands to run. I’m on my way to a writer’s gathering at a local coffee shop.

I will work on my novel. I will partake in writing exercises at the event. I will write this post. I will complete my sentences and I will not be interrupted. I am free for the day.

It feels strange. Something is wrong. Something is missing.

Monkeys.

Monkeys on my back and on my lap and the dog licking my toes. Once a week, I collect my thoughts and put them on paper.

But during the week, I always have one monkey on my neck and one on my lap moving the computer mouse. I write with my arms on either side of boy monkey and try to breath while girl monkey presses down on my throat. The dog faithfully lays at my toes, with an occasional lick.

My challenge is to write even through the constant interruptions, in between mountains of laundry, endless phone calls and play dates and little league practices, in between buying groceries and making dinner. I find my self at the computer at all hours, in five-minute intervals, or writing a great idea on a coupon, hoping I wont loose it on the way home.

I write for my monkeys, Sam and Victoria. I write for the legacy I wish to leave them and because I have so many words that I need to say. I write so that children see themselves in my writing and have heroes they can grow to love.

Being touched by a book like Charlotte’s Web or Anne of Green Gables has left me with a need to pay it forward. Books for me were my ticket to a new way of life. I write so I can offer that ticket to other children.

I write with my monkeys on my back, for those monkeys, for your monkeys, who cannot wait to turn a page and be transported to another world.

I write so that my children can remember me in years to come.

No matter which monkey hangs on my back at any given moment or what coupon I use as note pad, I write best when they hang on me, reminding me why I write.