I haven’t been blogging much, I’ve been working on a manuscript about my experience working as a corrections educator. I’ve started writing the narrative and it’s gone well when I’ve been able to sit down and write. But I haven’t been writing as much as I need to, as much as I want to. I can’t tell if I’m distracting myself, or if it’s just a phase – a flurry of activity from the world outside my writing.
I suppose this is part of why so many writers, artists, and musicians isolate themselves when they need to create. Although I love my life and my friends and all the wonderful things around me, they intrude on my bandwidth, take away that precious focus I need to generate the good stuff.
This is an entirely new experience for me.
Most of my life the last several years has revolved around my friends, dancing, and my social life. It is disconcerting to feel alone, to hear some small voice whispering “you could be writing,” even while I thoroughly enjoy my time with my friends. I feel like I’m in some unknown place, surrounded by a mist that lives and breathes, parting to let me see through, but not for long.