I'm afraid I may have to give up writing for a while. I'm back at work - paid work, that is - and it feels as though my life has imploded. At the moment my horizons are so tight upon me that I know something has got to be jettisoned.
I'm afraid it will be my writing - my main passion, the thing I love and am absorbed by, the only thing in my life that is just for me. There isn't time to be a good teacher, just an adequate one; the extra preparation time for teaching makes me a worse mother....though still just about adequate. What does that leave? What part of me is left to devote to writing?
Hopefully, something. Once we're settled in routine, surely I can prioritise those goals.
I'm glad that I began writing the short stories for The Year of Stories early. Without that pre-commitment and nest-egg of work, I think it would be easy to take a break now, which would not do me any good.
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