Things have been chaos here this week. It’s meant little time for writing, or thinking about writing, or even much reading. I know life will quiet back down in a bit, and I’ll be grateful for it.

In the meantime, something else I’m grateful for: my support people. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can tell you that it takes a freaking village to raise this particular writer. Writing itself is bliss much of the time. Not so much the experience of working toward being a professional writer. If there’s a line of work better geared toward encouraging depressive tendencies, I’ve not yet come across it.

So, thanks are in order to Desdemona and her boundless enthusiasm; to Clarissa (who better appreciate her code name, given all the possible options) and her willingness to listen not only to my endless monologues about what I’m writing, but my halting readings of the writing itself; to my kids, who pat me on the back and give me fingerless gloves to type with in the winter; and…and absolutely most of all, to my husband, who listens, and reads, and helps me brainstorm, and gets what I’m trying to do, and forgives me my writerly freakouts.

There are others as well, but this small group is the front line. From the middle of the night worries to the “please read this right this minute,” they’re there for me. If they’re not…well, easy enough to sit outside their doors until they are.

My pit crew. They’re the definition of the word awesome.