|Photo by Jamie Street|
I continued living my life moving with its ebbs and flows. I feared that in this frame of mind I would not finish the novel I am so near to completing. My writing group attendance became spotty and inconsistent. Maybe, I thought, I am not really a writer after all. Again, that thought made me sad. I have always loved writing.
Then, completely out of the blue, I found myself thinking about a subject for a new novel. Watching my granddaughter play outside, I began to think about family members no longer with us who would have adored her. Suddenly a story idea sprang into my head, and I felt a spark of excitement at the thought of writing about it. I began to jot down notes to keep the idea safe. This spark reignited the writer inside of me.
I find myself going about my days once again thinking as a writer. I am glimpsing inspiration for future writing projects in random places, and I feel giddy thinking about them. I am reconnecting with my writing group. Reuniting with my writing identity feels right and brings me joy.
|Photo by Jamie Street |
Until next time,