So I love writing, it’s kind of an addiction at this point. But there are worse things that I could be addicted to do. I accept it as my vice and try to use it constructively. Thing is, I have a short attention span. I mean I could write all day, I have. Winter is the best best time to indulge in it here and there.

But I crave new ideas, new experiences. It’s hard to be confined. Sometimes I feel caged, locked away by a story that is begging me to finish. I cannot just leave my characters behind, I have to allow them to remain somewhere at least slightly finished if I can walk away with a clear conscience.

Despite the recent bitter cold, my spirit is still longing to run around outside and tackle some trail or at least meet some new trees. I have a huge backyard that helps a bit. It will get me through the next few weeks.

After that who knows. Some writers struggle with ideas, characterization, world building, grammar, sentence structure, simple things that I have by no means perfected but “get” to a degree. The problem with writing is that I love it so much and yet I often feel that it holds me back from the delicious excursions of life, real life.

We’re back here again, working to maintain balance. Balancing my loves, my life, and myself is always a trial. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be I guess.