Snow melted. I shoveled half the driveway and left. My foot is SO not happy about it. Mostly my foot has adapted to walking, going up and down stairs, and doing the minimal stuff. It has not adapted to exercise or shoveling. The pain doesn't bother me at all. What bothers me is the reminder that I can't do something I love, because I can't seem to get the damn thing fixed. And every time it swells up, I feel like a failure. I'm not sure what else I can do about it except throw more money at it, but, heck, feelings are not rational things.
I reconnected with an old writer friend today. Okay, my first writing friend. Really, my closest writing friend. She's a brilliant writer, and I love her stuff, but she stopped writing a few years back. In my tiny world, you gotta write fast if you want to pay the bills.
She got burnt out. Sad, again, because I love her stuff.
In her email, she warned me away from letting myself get burnt out, too. And it was some surprise to me that I realized how much I love it. I realized that I could never get burnt out. Partly because I've learned the warning signs, learned the pitfalls and stuff.
And, like I said before, I've completely separated the act of writing with all the business junk, waiting for checks, and career planning. Smartest thing I ever did.
Mostly, though, I was surprised because writing was never in the grand plan. It's this other thing I do. I always say that it seduced me, and it's true. So sometimes I look around and am shocked at how much time I spend at this writing thing. I'm shocked at how much peace it gives me. I'm surprised at what a part of my life it is, how much time I put into improving and reading and planning.
It's a lover I've grown quite protective of, actually. No, I will not let the business muck it up, and I will not let anyone hurt it, not even myself.
Writing isn't the same thing as that first time I penned a story. I remember toying with a sentence for hours, literally grinning at the screen as I considered the different nuances of choosing one word over another.
It's not first love anymore, but it's a deeper love. And still, somehow, everyday it surprises me. It shows me yet another reason why I love it.
I don't love music less, or teaching less. I just failed to protect what I love from the business of it. It's improving, though.
So how has your relationship with writing changed over the years?