Things have been really busy and I’ve not had time to tend to my writing garden. The weeds are growing, flowers are wilting and the sweet scent I use to treasure when strolling down my pebbled walking path has turned sour. Nothing bad has happened, it’s just the busy bee aspects of life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that opportunities are coming my way, but with each step forward toward one goal, is another step back back from my true love. I have all these story ideas crammed between my thoughts of work, bills, school, family and etc., that it’s hard for me to finish what I start. Every email, every phone call, every question, malfunction or bit of news is another thing to obsess over outside of my writing.
I feel pulled in a million directions and to journal is the only thing I can do in the moment to keep my daily promise to write. Maybe this weekend I’ll be able to relax and dig in. Get down on my knees with trowel in hand and turn over the earth. Maybe then I can plant the remaining seeds to allow my story to grow. Or maybe I’m being to flowery about it all. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.