I have a confession. I don’t actually believe you’re going to absolve me, or prescribe repentance, or beat me with a braided leather belt, but I think I’ll fel better if I just tell you that I haven’t been writing.
Um, much at all.
Because I don’t want to.
I could give you all kinds of excuses about family responsibilities and neighborhood opportunities and church obligations and whatever, but the truth is that I have found time to read several very mediocre books, re-watch a few movies that weren’t even that good the first time, and nap ferociously.
The muse packed up and left long ago, and I haven’t even tried calling her back. (I want the cinnamon bears for myself, thank you very much.) But I want to want to. I want to feel that tickle in my fingers* and that tug at my brain that says there’s a story inside me. I want to have that urge to wake up an hour earlier and get the good words on the page. I want to feel justified to call myself a writer.
Do you think that I will somehow magically return to writerliness when the kids go back to school? Will their enforced schedule trickle over this way? I hope so, somehow.
But for now, I’m going to play games and run around outside and take a few bike rides and remember that, first and forever, I’m the Mom around here.
Happy summer’s end.
*Somewhat different from Shakespeare’s “pricking in my thumbs” when “something wicked this way comes” – okay, really, really different.
(4) Comments for this blog
There are those in the world who are fully committed to their passions and pursuits every moment. I think they are the rare ones. For the rest of us, different aspects of life ebb and flow. It does not change the definition of who we are or who we have it in us to be, it simply means that different moments are filled with different things. And that's okay. It really is.
I haven't worked on my work in progress in about two weeks. And that's okay too. I'm still a writer. It's still who I am. It's just not, nor ever has been, all that I am.
There are those in the world who are fully committed to their passions and pursuits every moment. I think they are the rare ones. For the rest of us, different aspects of life ebb and flow. It does not change the definition of who we are or who we have it in us to be, it simply means that different moments are filled with different things. And that's okay. It really is.
I haven't worked on my work in progress in about two weeks. And that's okay too. I'm still a writer. It's still who I am. It's just not, nor ever has been, all that I am.
Oh my goodness, I am going to frame this post and Kimberly's lovely response. Perfect.
Oh my goodness, I am going to frame this post and Kimberly's lovely response. Perfect.