I have been long blessed and afflicted with the condition of having a near-limitless pool of interests that I like to jump into from time to time. I sometimes knit, or bind books, or fancy myself likely to learn Cantonese, or Jainism, or macrame. I write, more consistently than other tasks, but often not enough.
I want to put in a garden, so today I went to an heirloom seed sale and put the seeds into their little peat pots to start sprouting.
I love to cook AND bake (and have the rare ability as a baker to be able to make both bread and pie crusts with ease, apparently this is a challenge). I’ve been entering recipe contests lately. This is an ideal pursuit, because I’m cooking anyway, so this way I get a chance at winning some money and I remember to write down what I made.
I want to be better at photography and cinematography. It has been suggested that I do a cooking webcast of sorts, but the planning process for that is intensive, and I don’t find I have time to do that with all my other activities.
And writing. I desperately want to do that more than I have in the past few years. Getting a book published that I coauthored back in 2007 was detrimental to my writing experience. The book did reasonably well, and I couldn’t understand why that would hurt my ability to write more, but it did. Now that I have other friends that have published books, I understand. As artists, we had this glamorous vision of what publication would mean, and when that failed to emerge as we hoped, it was a let down.
Plus, writing now has a price tag on it. It’s hard to be creative when you are nickel-and-dime-ing every word that makes it onto the page. And after a year and a half of my husband’s unemployment followed by a brief period of underemployment, I had to come to the realization that my most valuable skillset is writing. Also, I had to realize it is a skill set I could not use in the face of insecurity. This makes me want to use it now, while we have a safety net, to develop a portfolio enough to be desirable in the writing world.
The years off from it, though, have been damaging. I have this subtle nagging fear that I don’t know how to write anymore. And then there are all the other activities that uplift me that I don’t want to (and honestly can’t) give up. I need to cook and craft and garden and learn … and write.
So right now, I am going to bring back Genre Impaired for a bit. If for no other reason, than so I can give myself a place to reflect on priorities in all my many loves.
And tomorrow, I am going to start a 90 day challenge to finish a novel based on Sarah Domet’s book, 90 Days to Your Novel.