I'm back. For now.
The thing about me and writing is that, being an untrained professional, I don't have the discipline required to write on a regular basis. Instead, I rely on a thing I like to call Inspiration. My assumption is that professional writers have somehow come up with a way to lure Inspiration into an elaborate snare (probably involving bent saplings and bear traps), corralled it into a cage, domesticated it, and then go out and milk it once a week for their column in the newspaper.
My Inspiration has so far been elusive. And that's fine with me - I'm content to hunt Inspiration on its own terms. I stalk it, corner it in the woods, pin it down and milk it 'til it's dry. Meanwhile, it flails around clawing and scratching me with its talons and chomping me with its 37 rows of teeth, inflicting some heavy casualties of its own.
That's pretty much where the metaphor breaks down, but the point is that I'm anything but regularly inspired. It's been over six months since I wrote here. It's not that I get bored of it, it's more that I'm selective of what I do with my time, and unless I've got a good head of steam from Inspiration I won't really write anything.
However, the facts are these: I've lately been more contemplative, and I'm redistributing my time accordingly. I've also had a number of great conversations with people lately, which has given me a lot to think about. (Number One among those things is that I am, apparently, and horrifyingly, becoming a verbal processor).
I guess it's only a matter of time before Inspiration makes a run for another part of the woods, but until then - I Write!
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