Life in the Air Age

was an old Bill Nelson tune that I find appropriately prescient in view of my current circumstances.

I think I’ve found ways to wiggle through most of my quandaries, having had a couple extra days of peace and quiet this week due to the child being at daycare on accounta my hernia n all.

And there are a lot of them, some of them mentioned here, some of them suitable only for the inside of my head. Most of my objections seem prideful even to me, but my need to create isn’t one of those.

I always wanted to be a fulltime writer, but I’ve never had the opportunity to do so. There has always been some other aspect of my life that demanded precedence, and so it is once again. I had the opportunity to play music for a living for a time, and the changing marketplace has determined that it would be far too difficult, given my mobility issues and oxygen needs, to be a performing musician at this time.

Roughly two years ago I determined that i was going to BE A WRITER, on the strength of having published a hundred or so things in various organs over the span of nearly forty years, and on the strength of having 14 novels and a hundred or so short stories “in the can”, so to speak.

I lashed together and partially rewrote eleven of the shorts, wrote two new ones under the same general theme, and shopped it briefly before determining that I would self-publish. Still gonna happen. I had just gotten the proof copies before my hernia surgery and there’s a legit chance of this getting done this year. Not too much fixin’ to do, in other words.

So I can make the time to edit instead of write, and satisfy the productivity urge of my muse. I proved to myself that I can produce musically. I’m not as panic-stricken as I was at first…though it still sucks, cuz I think I had things to say.

That’s how I come to be blogging, at 3 ayem on a weird old Friday night. Thinking about how to raise, or help to raise, an eight-year-old girlchild and still have some kind of creative life.

Others have done it, right? So even with the oxygen and stuff, I should be good.

I just have to slither over to the dark side of one-project-at-a-time, get em done, and then booyah! Or so I hope.

Pay no attention to the doubters. They wouldn’t know how to tie your shoes if they were to try to walk a mile in them.

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