In July, I began working for an online magazine as a web editor. I love it. Working from home is an absolute blessing. However, my writing baby is currently placed on hold. It’s frustrating. I see others continuing to push forward with their writing and mine is at a stalemate.
Often times, I sit behind to the wheel of my car, driving through treed landscapes, and I can vividly see my characters peek at me from behind trees. I see them on the fall ground, lying amidst yellows, oranges, and reds, staring at the sun-filled sky. They dream. I dream. But together we are trapped in thunderous storm clouds, unable to break free from life’s tornado of chaos.
I have the inability to work at a snail’s pace. It’s either all or nothing. And right now, it’s a big, gleaming bowl of emptiness. Every attempt to fill the empty bowl with a few lucky charms is immediately interrupted by phone calls, family, and discouragement.
Is it OK to accept the gleaming bowl of emptiness? Or should sacrifices be made to juggle life’s tornadoes, no matter what the cost?