Ch.ch.changes

I am currently celebrating/mourning a huge shift in the "pour yourself into other people and have them do the same to you" portion of my life.

Though I feel a tremendous freedom and relief, it is sad at the same time. Grief, I believe they call it.

One by-product of this freedom, however, is that my creative juices are beginning to flow again. I'm excited about that. I'm interested to see where that carries me now that I have time to work with it without feeling guilty about spending time on something not apart of my "calling." I have more Maddie to come, a lot more, and I have two characters that are candidates for Ficcion, one of which is the most provocative I've ever dealt with.

Funny thing about freedom. Right after mine became quantifiable, no less than three doors popped open, three doors that have been closed for a long time. It was almost as though they were taunting me, seducing me, sirens trying to rob me of my new-found serenity. But I didn't bite. For once in my life I set a boundary and stuck to it. I refuse to settle for busyness, just for the sake of busyness. The only interruption I will accept is from my muse.

Speak to me, thy fleeting fancy. Whisper thy gifts in my ear. Blow the winds of inspiration through my hair. Sprinkle me with thy magic dust.