I’ve been thinking more about my recent post about defining the word “writer”, and admit that up to a point it’s true. Freelancing is extremely satisfying work, and I do love all the opportunities I’ve had to be creative within its boundaries.
Lately, I’ve put several projects to bed, and guess what’s left? Time to write. Yes, that extremely precious commodity of time to write and create is actually available, and with my semester winding down, there will continue to be writing time over the next several months. In the past, I would have been thrilled to have all this time and have immediately plowed away at the short story or novel that I’d been living with for the past weeks or months. Finally, those characters who had been talking in my head would get their words recorded on paper. But I have no voices, no story, no novel–just time. The irony of getting paid by The Writer Magazine to create writing prompts is not lost on me.
A recent post by Laura Best has brought the fact that I’m missing this into sharp relief. Where will I go from here? I’m not sure. But I can’t help but believe that all of this time is waiting to be filled with something and that if I’m just patient–and keep reading and scribbling in my journal–I’ll find out what it is.