Life is rarely simple. It seems to be easier for some but for most of us, it’s downright complicated. I don’t know about the rest of you, but complications mess with my ability to focus. In the last several years, I’ve pretty much run on survival instincts alone. This means, whatever is most important at that moment, I do and think about the rest later. After years of this I’m afraid I’m stuck in survival mode. In other words, if something does not seem all that important, it gets forgotten or pushed aside.

This is where the writing comes into play. I often say my entire life is *have to*, stealing a line from the movie Parenthood. And it’s true. I did go back to college because I wanted to, but in the large scheme of things, I have to get this degree if I want to give my daughter and myself any real quality of life. I work because I have to; mine is the only income we have. I drive to Knoxville sixteen times a year because the courts tell me I have to. I’m sure you see the pattern here.

But I write because I *want to*. Very unique situation that. Something I haven’t done in a long time and I’m afraid forgotten how to do. You see, the writing keeps getting ignored or pushed aside for other things. Other things that seem more important but perhaps aren’t. What if I’ve lost the ability to do something simply for the joy of doing it?