Crossroads

Do I really want to write anymore? The dust is starting to settle in our new home (oh, hey, did you know we moved? Yeah, that happened), and as I unpack the boxes of books and writing paraphernalia, I wonder if I even want to write anymore. Things have changed a lot since that first creative writing class sophomore year. My writing has grown for sure, but so have the responsibilities in my life. I have a son! He’s amazing. He takes us a ton of time and energy. How am I ever going to fit writing into an already busy schedule? Not to mention I haven’t been feeling all that creative lately either. Kind of like the well has dried up. Do I really want to keep pretending? Am I pretending, or am I just in a funk? Do I just clear it all out? Will I regret it if I do? Are these pages and pages of notes, scenes, and stories worth keeping around even if they just gather dust?

Looking at my half-finished manuscript, though, I feel like I have to keep going. I have already poured so much of my soul into it. Plus, for years I’ve been telling everyone I am going to be a writer. I think back about all the amazing opportunities fate handed to me that I squandered – all the authors, publishers, and actors that I let slip out of my life… I’m ready now, Universe, if you want to send another one of those my way. And then there is my son. I want to show him that dreams can come true. Even crazy pipe dreams. You just have to work at it (a little bit harder than I have been working).

I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet, it seems. But I need to get back to the happy place I found in writing. That part of me has atrophied over the past few years. Perhaps this is the perfect time to be at this particular crossroad. Time to hit the restart button. Version 2.0 (ha, more like 8.0, but whatever) is 98% loaded. Please do not turn off your device…