Wednesday, April 27, 2016


     It's been a long long time but I'm beginning to dream of being a writer again. I guess it is in the blood, like it or not. Sickness in the home robs one of the time and inspiration that is so very necessary for the creative process but after nearly four years of doing nothing more creative than playing video games on the computer, it's high time I forced myself to do something that doesn't rot my brain. True, few may find this to read but perhaps I'll get a sense of satisfaction from having written a few words anyway... .
     When I began writing I was still an acting children's librarian and wanted to write for that age group. It became quickly obvious that I didn't know beans from apple butter about the subject. I knew little children but the area I thought would be so easy to tackle very soon was revealed to be the most difficult and demanding of all I could possibly have chosen. Subsequently, I took workshops, studied, took college courses, attended writers clubs, joined organizations and, most importantly, wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. For years I wrote...seemed to me (at the time) anything and everything.  Now I know there were millions of subjects I could have covered that I did not. I've had a very successful writing career, publishing articles, newspaper columns, short stories and books but it all came to a screeching halt several years ago when the unexpected, uninvited and unwanted happened.
     My husband became ill. Very ill. Not dying ill...thank goodness. However since he is in his late seventies we certainly must keep that as a very real possibility as the illness is worsening gradually. So naturally I am staying at home and taking care of things here. Fortunately he is not totally incapaciated at this time so we continue to have certain activities. But he is home daily now and is unable to sleep.
     In order to write I need concentration time and it is really impossible to find it now. And I'm certainly unable to travel to conferences and meetings anymore so I find myself without my circle of friends and fellow writers that I had for so many years.
     So I play games on the computer. And at night I dream. I dream of going to conferences far far away. I dream of driving across the beautiful country as I did for so many Jackson Hole, to Cheyenne, to Colorado Springs, to Saint Louis and on and on and on. I dream of my friends...Jory, Charlotte, Ellen, Lou, Candy, Loren and Debbie and on and on. I dream of the children's books that I have yet to write.
     Do I still have time? Do I have enough drive? Can I find enough energy?
     Maybe this alone will satisfy.