Buffalo Gal

Is being a writer what you do or what you are?
Two months ago it was all I did. The question was moot.
I just filled in time reports for the last few weeks -- 54 hours last week and 64 this week. Throw in the commuting, sleeping and worrying time and there isn't a second left. Four hurried blogs leave no reasonance of the last four weeks. My personal emails are piling up unanswered. I haven't even finished my Christmas cards.
In the frustration of actually trying to get a book to market, the grass on the other side of the fence smelled so sweet.
I didn't prepare myself for office politics, how complicated the simplest tasks can become by committee or the general quashing process.
I miss my husband. I miss my daughter. I miss my cats. I miss the luxury of reading.
And I really miss being a writer.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
:: HOME :: The New Buffalo Gal :: Buffalo Rising :: The Buffalo Bloviator :: Buffalo NPR Station :: SABAH :: More Buffalo Weather Reality :: West Village :: Mary's Blog :: The Truth About Snow in Buffalo :: EMAIL ::
Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (1) Share on Facebook		2004-12-17 2:19 PM Being a writer Is being a writer what you do or what you are? Two months ago it was all I did. The question was moot. I just filled in time reports for the last few weeks -- 54 hours last week and 64 this week. Throw in the commuting, sleeping and worrying time and there isn't a second left. Four hurried blogs leave no reasonance of the last four weeks. My personal emails are piling up unanswered. I haven't even finished my Christmas cards. In the frustration of actually trying to get a book to market, the grass on the other side of the fence smelled so sweet. I didn't prepare myself for office politics, how complicated the simplest tasks can become by committee or the general quashing process. I miss my husband. I miss my daughter. I miss my cats. I miss the luxury of reading. And I really miss being a writer. Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (1) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top