It’s been a while since I have posted anything here. After a hectic few months I decided to stop and take a breath. I deferred the end of my Masters course. I made a list of all the things that were more pressing, more important, more urgent than the time I spend at my desk. ‘Life’ was the number one item. That’s a vast umbrella term for all the stuff that needed my attention. My kids, my family, my marriage, myself…
I tried to stay away from writing and it was the single hardest thing I have done. I may not have written a single page of my WIP, but my thoughts have been consumed by the characters. Since mid-May I have found myself running plot lines whilst doing a myriad of other things that I had prioritized above writing. I have concluded that my list was incomplete, or, just plain incorrect. I need to write. It is a small but essential part of who I am. I’m not happy when I’m not writing, regardless of how many guilt-free hours I have to spend hanging out with my kids, my friends or even curled up on my favourite chair with a book and a coffee.
After two weeks on the wagon, I submitted a short story to a competition. It was one I finished earlier in the year. I’m not holding my breath for any great success, it just felt like the right thing to do, sending the words out into the world. Immediately after sending it, I had the sensation of a stomach full of eels. Should I pull it out? Do I really want to share my work? Outside of a couple of very close friends, and a select few classmates, I’ve never shared my writing. I’m still ambivalent about the world pulling back the curtains and looking inside my head. Part of me is terrified, but a bigger part is afraid of never sharing the words.
So, time to make a fresh list. I’m sure there’s some dead-wood I can trim from other areas of my days and nights. Time to make space for the things that need my attention. For the things that make me who I am. My kids, my family, my marriage, myself, my writing.
Maybe I just need a bigger umbrella.