Some times the writer part of me gets sucked so far beneath the surface that I’m sure he will drown.
Recently, work has left me with no time to write anything that doesn’t have a price tag associated with it.
I don’t mind. It’s work I enjoy and I’m well paid for, so I know I’m fortunate BUT…
… at some level I also know that I can’t afford to let the writer part of me drown. Without him I would be different, less, not me.
Many years ago I was swimming off the coast of Donegal in the North West of Ireland and I got caught in an undertow. I swam and made no progress. It finally occurred to me that I might drown. I know now that I should have drifted with the flow and found my way to shore further along the coast but somehow I often find that going with the flow is an option I’m blind to. So I swam harder than I thought I knew how. I got to shore with my biceps on fire. But I’m still here.
Today the writer part of me surfaced long enough to say: “I don’t care if you have time or not. Get me to shore NOW”.
So here’s a post. Just to remind myself that I can. Just to call out of the depths to anyone still listening. Just to promise myself the possibility of dry land.