Sorry I’ve disappeared for a while I’ve been preoccupied. I started writing again and I’m not all that happy about it. I thought I had put my silly pursuit of being a published author to bed, made peace with my inability to produce a decent manuscript, and began investigating other pipedreams. I was writing free for nine months (I consider my blogging to be humorous blathering, not really writing) but sometime in June I fell off the wagon. I began to outline an idea. I began to write the phrases and vignettes that were bubbling up. I began to think like a writer again. I began to hope again. So now when my house is quiet, I sit down at the computer and write.
Most weekends my husband takes the kids to his mother’s beach house; the house he spent his youthful summers at; they play in the waves and sand that he did; our kids play with the kids, of the kids that he played with. My weekends are blessed with quiet and solitude and I have to muck them up with writing….sigh. Don’t bother telling me to be strong and find something else to do, it doesn’t work, my compulsion to write the stories in my head and the guilt from avoiding it, kill me. It’s much easier to give in and ride the tide, because this too shall pass, it always does—Holy Monkey, the amount of clichés in this piece is ridiculous!
I have to let this writing thing run its course so please bear with me.
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