Becoming a Writer Again

2007 Marked the End of an Era for Me

After years of ignoring the bug and the itch, I returned to writing. It didn't come as easily as I'd hoped, and this August 2007 journal entry offers pennace to that.

I've had it. My cup runneth over with current event opinion pieces that all say the same thing. Sure, I would like to write an article, but I want to address different and interesting topics drawn from every day life. Of course I want to write something relevant, but it would have to avoid the ultra-popular topics of the day. What's more though, I dream of writing a novel--but not just any novel. I want to write a good novel, a "Top 100" novel, an influential novel. The truth remains, however, that right now my desperation rests at such a level that I'd sit satisfied with a decent short story. I'd even settle for a paragraph at this point. A sentence. My biggest problem rests in my unyielding determination to make it interesting and also to discover my edge. Before any of that, though, I must figure out what I want to say.

Why can't I seem to do that?

Back in high school I had no problem writing. I wrote good stories, bad stories, poetry, essays, even songs. At least my pencil hit paper and even made a few marks on it-and on a daily basis to boot. Today, however, my mind swims in a fog of dirty diapers and accidents resulting from beginner's potty training. I drown in dishes, clothes that need washing today, hitting issues, tattletales, masterpieces unceremoniously drawn on the walls in colors often too pale for me to see. My social life consists of three hours of church on Sundays; three hours that offer little opportunity for chit-chat (which, by-the-way, can either be good or bad). A large part of me is okay with this. A smaller part often nags that perhaps it's not okay.

There is much I'd like to do but cannot at the moment. My priorities are being reevaluated at every available moment. I feel guilt. I feel besieged. I feel love. I feel anger...I feel tired. I have three kids and a husband who, when he isn't working, is at school, studying, or sleeping. It doesn't help that my youngest is up with the sun these days.