Somehow, all the time I used to look forward to — all the time I spent thinking about what I might write here is gone. The unfortunate aspect of this is that the writing voice I hear during the day has faded, its insistent prodding, its litany of opening lines, and reminders of possible topics have been pushed aside by life. And what a small life it is.
Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?
It should be, but I don’t have the time right now to make it that way. Too much dust and food, and excuses. It isn’t that I don’t want to write here. Honestly. It’s more about the type of writer I am.
I have to use a food analogy. Sorry.
If you turn the burner on low and let the water simmer, then turn up the heat as the water approaches the boil, then that would be me. There’s no turning me on high and cutting to the chase. I could do that if I wanted, but what’s the point?
Writing is a catharsis for me and if I can’t spend the time, then the words stay in my mind. And I’m egotistical enough to know that once I’ve formed the perfect line of words to convey the just right thought, they’ll be forgotten unless I write them down. It’s sad.
I do get credit for:
1) working on a cookbook for a friend which entailed making most of the recipes and snapping photos, right?
2) spending more time than I wanted –surprisingly — looking at products for our home renovation.
3) getting ready to visit several blogging friends for a week!
4) having to reposition myself in my home while contractors tear it to shreds and dust settles on every possible surface.
Excuses.
Sad, because so much has happened that I have thoughts about — some lovely, and others, not so much. And all of which would have been written at one point in time. But no. And it’s horrible.
The other problem is, even if I write here, everyone has either left the building, or has stopped writing, their bloggy wonderfulness seemingly forever ended, their words and photos, just sitting, no longer collecting comments. *sigh*
What to do?
Sign up for that writing class at UCSD extension so I’ll actually write? Continue to wallow through this strange new life of mine?
What?