Lately I’ve been squeezing every free hour into writing, and so far it’s been very challenging. There are other factors, of course, and it’s been hard to catch up with things that were neglected while I was on my trip.
Some of the challenges are more obvious, like Time and Motivation, which are suffering because circumstances in this month are just eating them away.
I’m getting kind of tired of trying to navigate personal problems in order to find time for myself. I’m not sure I’ve figured out how to do that yet. I feel like a majority of my personal problems are from other people influencing me. I kind of wish I had the capability of shutting myself into my studio office at home and blocking out all the distractions, of needy dogs, a hungry husband, and friends and family constantly needing counseling.
Where’s my moment of solitary respite? When can I actually be rewarded with some kind of personal time for myself that everyone will understand that I need as a writer (and as an introspective thinker) and not act panicked or insulted when I say “No, I can’t” when they need me.
I have been failing at that, I suppose. It’s a learning process. I’m determined to make it work though. When I start to feel that my passion for writing is faltering, I know it’s not the passion itself but the frustration of seeing it just within my grasp and never being able to hold on to it.
The ideas are swirling around. My characters are calling to me, pretty much shouting in my ear. I’m listening but I feel like I’m stuck in cement.
And for once it’s not work that’s keeping me down. At least that is a refreshing constant.