future vs. now.

why don’t i write anymore?

i was thinking, tonight, after flying to boston, getting engaged, catching the flu, and spending my last five days holed up in the sick bed—why don’t i write anymore? when grown ups ask me what my plans are next year, or assume that i’m going into teaching since i’m majoring in English, i smile politely and murmur something about how i want to write or edit. so why don’t i write anymore?

i have all these stories in my head. i re-read drafts from last spring, and i think i can re-work them. i have real things to write about. why don’t i write them? instead i sleep earlier and read wedding blogs or books and battle my longings to be in a different place. creative work is hard. beginning it is often the hardest part. i forget that, sometimes. i think writing only happens when it’s required of me. i’ll never publish anything that way.

i’m marrying a boy who once told me that if i had periods of dead writing or no writing, he would give me writing assignments. with that kind of encouragement, how can i not write? there are not that many demands on my time right now….and yet, i never feel i use my time the best i can.

balance, balance, balance. everything in life is balance.