Dauriauna's Birthday/Writer's Wanted

Today, my youngest child celebrates her fifteenth birthday. In my mind, she remains the "tiny" one, ever The Baby. Even so, with all the chaos and confusion surrounding our lives, there is a degree of satisfaction in finding my little Quartet together for such a milestone, especially as this may be our last summer together as a foursome for some time to come. As far as writing goes, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I have regained enough strength to begin to write daily again: the bad news is, I am writing not nearly enough. Even so, the day finds me strong enough to venture out to face my writers' group this afternoon, even though it seems that most will not be in attendance. The notion of holding such meetings at the library in this area is proving a colossal failure; nevertheless, the experience should be quite helpful once the family has relocated out West. The important thing to remember is that the attempt was made. Perhaps such ideas are not viable in New Haven, Connecticut; yet, I am sure that somewhere there exist the desire and enthusiasm for such an assembly. The key is to try, try again!


In the interim, children's stories shall remain my focus--for the present. Telling myself I will not obsess over the progress being (or not being) made by my "best friend" with regards to his own first venture, assuring myself that health issues notwithstanding I can--indeed--produce something of quality, all insecurities, doubts, worries, and financial concerns aside, I will churn out at least one additional tale this week.

From there?

The world...?

Getting Back Into the Swing Of Things

The last month has seen me struggling with health issues once again, which I found--naturally--quite disheartening. Not only have I found myself unable to attend many of the functions or indulge in the activities which bring me the most pleasure but I have not written much of anything in the past month. Oh, to keep my mind nimble (not to mention geared towards creating) I have spent much of my convalescence attempting to read; nevertheless, it is so very frustrating to find myself too tired, too listless, to drained to actually write.

"...Life sucks...and you are a warrior...."


This is what my "best" friend in California had to say on the subject. And, as usual, the levity cheered me up just long enough to give me no choice but to put things into perspective. Despite my moaning and groaning--not to mention my spiels of very creative lamentations--given the severity of things, the situation could have easily been far worse. Thus and therefore, the time has come to push myself back into the "swing of things," albeit the very prospect of having to unravel nearly six weeks of untouched manuscripts, missed appointments, unanswered e-mails, and piles of correspondence leaves me cringing.


So, here goes!


I am now re-entering the Land of the Living!