Every now and then, I start to look at writing as a bit of a burden. Don't get me wrong! I absolutely love it. But writing can be hard, you know? Slogging through the rough draft, tackling massive revisions, and receiving rejections from left to right. It's not always a walk in the park.
But writing is also my refuge. When times get tough--and they've gotten really tough as of late--I look to writing as my getaway. My peace. My solace. It whirls me away from the stress of daily life and it takes me into the world of my story. For an hour or two, I can stop worrying about nurses and chaplains and pills, and I can focus on my characters and plot and tone. It's the ultimate escape.
I am in Seattle right now. I've been here for nearly a week and I'll probably stay until early January. My father-in-law is very sick. His cancer has spread from his colon to his liver and he entered hospice care two weeks ago. It's...hard. It's hard to see such a wonderful man dying before his time. And it's hard to see my husband mourn for a father he will lose far too soon. We sit and wait, sit and wait. We wait for Death to arrive on his dark black horse. We can already hear its hoof-beats.
When I get some free time for myself, I check my email and I read. I don't have much energy to comment on my favorite blogs or to even reply to comments on my own blogs, but I do try to write. Sometimes it's hard to get started because all I want to do is close my eyes and cry. And yet, writing is my solace. My refuge.
There are times when I get so frustrated by writing that I want to throw my little netbook at the wall. But right now, I'm really glad I have it. New book. New scenes. New plot. It gives me some hope, you know?