Writing gods are greedy bastards.

They demand more frequent and larger sacrifices to be appeased than any other gods in my life, except for parenting (parenting gods require a lifetime commitment sealed in blood in addition to daily rations of sleep, health, and sanity).

What are my typical sacrifices to the writing gods, you ask?

Television. There’s no aimless channel surfing in my house. My list of must-watch tv has dwindled to only two shows: Game of Thrones and, on occasion, Outlander. These two escaped the sacrificial altar because power plays/razor sharp writing/dragons…and Jamie Fraser. My other favorites? Sorry, Jessica Day, Selena Meyer, Leslie Knope, Phil Miller, Pied Piper, Mindy Lahiri, et al. I’ll see you when I’m letting my manuscript percolate before my final edit. Or not, since I’ll probably want to start another project and the writing gods will be hungry again.

Cooking. Veggies steamed in the microwave and baked chicken are the name of the game. Sometimes tacos. Sometimes spaghetti and salad. Any recipes that take more than 15 minutes to prep/cook? Claimed by the writing gods as a delicious contribution to their glory.

Casual date nights. My poor, beleaguered, understanding husband.

“Baby’s asleep. Want to watch the new Star Wars?”

“Sure, just give me twenty minutes to finish this scene.” …three hours later… “Okay, I’m ready!”

“Zzzzz.”

We do manage real date nights some weekends, but your average weeknight? Nope. The writing gods demand their due.

Sleep. With the gods of parenting requiring their share, I really shouldn’t sacrifice sleep to the writing gods. But I do. More often than not. I’m a working mom, and with my day filled to the brim with other commitments, evenings are the only time I have to write. So I hover precariously on the edge of sleep deprivation: getting just enough sleep to function but never as much as I’d like. One more sacrifice to the writing gods.

Your gods sound terrible, you may be thinking. And sometimes they are. I’ll spend hours polishing a scene only to realize that the entire chapter needs to go. I’ll sit at my computer and stare at a blank page, the words sticking in my mind like taffy.

But on occasion, the writing gods are benevolent. Ideas flow like water onto the page. Dialogue pops. I’m happy with the day’s work.

Why sacrifice to the writing gods at all? Why not worship other masters, like the god of Netflix? Because I’m in love with the act of creation in storytelling and the pure joy of imagination. It takes 10,000 hours of practice to master a craft. If I don’t write, I won’t improve. Therefore, the sacrifice is worth it.

Time is limited, and all choices involve a tradeoff. I’m content with mine.

What sacrifices do you make to the gods in your life?