Okay, let's do this.

In 2007, I sold my first book. My kids were young (3, 5 and 7), and I wrote that book largely between 4-6 am, before anyone was awake. Wrote short stories that way too. I also just kept my computer open in the kitchen to sneak sentences during the day. https://twitter.com/MonicaHesse/status/1385715349027491843

When I sold the book, my agent wisely told me to go ahead and start my second book right away because contracts can take a long time, and sometimes books can hit snags that slow them down between signing and publishing.

And boy was she right, by the way. The contract took a full ten months. And then because of various things outside of my control - schedules and whatever - it ended up getting delayed until August 2011. If I didn't have something else to work on, I woulda lost my mind.

As I said, my kids were young. And I was broke. And that winter, we had a cold snap that wouldn't let up - weeks on end below zero. And also, my son learned that waking up at 4am sounded GRAND, so there went my writing time. They needed to play and I needed to write. And so

I took them to McDonalds Playland. Three times a week. I'd get a coffee and I wrote my book in my notebook that fit in my purse and the kids would play for two hours. I told them if they were good I would get them the fruit parfaits off the dollar menu. I did this ALL WINTER.

And by the way, it was gross. Those tubes and slides were NOT CLEAN. They came out greasy and slightly grey. My kid once found a full turd in there. I told them to step around it. Just kidding, I complained and we went home, but we still went back later that week.

But I wrote my whole novel that way. By hand. With coffee. In the din and the grease fumes. Because my kids needed something to do, and I needed to write.

The idea that the artist needs to be kept in a bubble for art to happen is a very silly idea invented by a man who didn't want to sweep the floor or fold the socks or do the dishes. How can you write about human beings while refusing to engage in acts of care for self or others?

My problem with Roth's comment is not just the implicit patriarchal nonsense, but I feel that it is damaging to any artist, regardless of where they happen to land on the gender spectrum, and regardless of whether or not they have children. Art need not be separate from living.

The idea that genius can only flourish while in a hothouse, utterly cut off from the world, is a myth. Human beings have been making art out of the stuff of their lives since we first figured out how to beat a rhythm on a rock and paint a picture on a wall.

Art happens *because* we are alive. Because we think and feel and care. Because we worry. Because we are connected to others. Because we check for fever with the back of our hands and bring a casserole for our neighbors and have to figure out how to pay for that broken window.

I wrote books while I was mopping up my dog's vomit and shouting at my kid's school about their 504 plan and worrying about whether we'd make the mortgage that month. I wrote books from my kid's hospital room. I wrote books making lasagne for my kid's sports team and carpooling.

When some Big Famous Author Who Is Also A Genius extols his perceived necessity of being somehow protected from the world, I worry that it sends the message to others that "art is not for me", or worse, that "I will never be a genius." Well guess what

Genius ain't that special. It's as common as dirt. Roth isn't a genius because someone did his laundry and made his food and kept his house neat. He just didn't want to do those things. You can still be a genius when you kiss your babies goodnight and go work on your story.

You can still be a genius when you work a double shift and find the time to sketch out a comic on the bus ride home. You can still be a genius at any time, because art is for everyone. This doesn't mean that we don't get run down and tired out - we do. You're a genius anyway.