Apparently I’m having trouble keeping up this blog, too. For some reason–perhaps because I’m not sure anyone ever reads it, I don’t feel the same pressure I felt with the other one. My own personal writing has been suspended anyway, with the rush of the beginning of the new semester. The upheaval at home we’re going through as the fallout from the school issues L. is having have made it almost impossible to sit down and give my mind over to the creative processes.  I was thinking last night, as I lay in bed in the semi-dark, how like a pie chart my brain has become. It’s divided up into many wedges, some constant in their shape, some changing. As the years pass I find the wedge devoted to me and my writing–the writing that’s not for money but just for me–has expanded a little, but it is constantly overshadowed by the bigger wedges.

I have learned, too, that it does not always compute that as your kids get older, you have more time for these things. I think I have more brain for them, but not more time. It’s taken roughly six or seven years for the part of my mind that was cleaved in two when I became pregnant and was raising young ones to mend.

And now I have to use this precious window of time, on this gray and cold Sunday, to write my Family Education column for tomorrow. The kids are watching a show or two and in some alternative universe there’s the me I want to be right now. I steal away to my little windowed room, I flex my fingers over the computer keyboard, I take several deep breaths, like a diver preparing for the dive, and I plunge into my writing. The characters stretch and smile when they see me, happy that I’ve come at last.

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