I’ve been long obsessed with living the writing life, with being a writer. I’ve read books by writers such as Annie Dillard, Stephen King, William Zinsser and others, and have picked up on some of their ideas. I’ve tried to insulate myself from real life in order to dedicate myself more completely to my private writing world. It’s been a selfish attempt on my part, but it was the only way I knew to attack it.
Over the Christmas season, I had to put my writing aside for a time in order to concentrate on family, food and celebration. I enjoyed it, of course, but it was difficult to re-enter my writing world. I had no ideas, no passion, no enthusiasm. Had I not applied myself enough to my writing world? Had I been too long in the real world, neglecting my writing life?
In my musings about this conundrum, I realized something: my real life is the one I need to live. My grandchildren, some living only a mile away, are growing quickly, and I want to spend more time with them. I need to keep up with my friends and the rest of my family. My 94-year old mother needs my attention. Even though her assisted living suite is lovely, she is a province away from her children and very lonely. We have a roomy house with only the two of us living in it, so we’ve invited her to move in with us.
What will happen to my writing life? I can’t say for sure, but I’m expecting it will be fine. As I move forward in my real life, investing myself in the lives of others, I find my motivation for writing more focused, my enthusiasm growing, and my ideas flowing. I don’t want to live in two worlds anymore.
One thing I know, I’ll certainly have more experiences to write about, and maybe I’ll learn to use my time more efficiently.