Are Writers Lazy?

I can remember the good old days, before children and a full time job, when I could spend the whole day doing nothing but getting ready to write. I'd wake up, get dressed, teach a class, maybe meet my hubby for coffee or something, and usually I'd be back at home before lunch with the rest of the day left "to write."

Now that I have so little time, I frequently try to remember exactly how I squandered three years in Arkansas and another six months in Livingston Parish. During my writing time I would stare out the window, pace through the apartment with ants in my pants, unable to sit at the desk, walk a few blocks to the florist to get a single flower for the vase on my desk, walk to the coffee shop for coffee, stop in the bead shop. . . Once I spent an entire afternoon in the car driving from gourmet store to gourmet stoere (few of these in Arkansas) looking for some kind of cheese I needed for a recipe.

I know some people would argue that all of these activities are necessary for the writer, that a poem is brewing inside of me even if I am not actually writing it down, that these types of activities are part of my education and so on. But I can't let myself believe that. I think I was being lazy. I would kill for that time now, those days when I would pussyfoot around until late afternoon and then finally drag out the notebook.

That line I always give about being a slow writer isn't evn halfway true. I waste a lot of time.

In my defense though, I feel the need to add that when I do have something going I drop EVERYTHING and devote myself to the poem.