writing myself out of touch

sunrise:  6:10

I have heard and read many times about the solitary nature of a writer's life.  Even to the extent that I am writing, about 2-4 hours a day, I am feeling it to be true.  It's not only the time that I am writing that I am removed from my surroundings, it is also much of the rest of the time.  I am thinking about things I've already written, wondering if they work, planning in my mind for changes, or for future themes to cover when I write in this blog or for my everyday people examiner job, or that elusive book which hovers all the time.

I really enjoy it.  The quandary is that I don't always enjoy how much it pulls me away from other things.  My attention is spotty, which can be frustrating to my husband and daughter.  Part of the problem is my fatigue, too, and the fact that I want to go to bed when they're up at night, and I'm up when they're not in the morning.

I still want to be a present mother for my daughter at home, and frankly, I should also remember that I will still have a husband around after she leaves - not to mention three dogs.  And three other children who like to check in and know that I'm here for them too.   Everyone has been slightly neglected.

It's not that I feel some kind of oppressive obligation.  I like to be mentally and emotionally available for the people, and even for the animals that I love.  I'm not planning on leaving this writing life behind.  In fact, I am thoroughly committed to making it what I do.  It's just a balance I have to continue to work towards.  Figuring out how to leave it all behind when I'm not working is a big part of it.  So -- if I don't make my 3+ articles a week for examiner, so be it.  That's an easy fix. 

Christina Baker Kline: A Writing Life is a blog that has had some very useful tips to help me along.  Thanks to the friend who led me there.

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I spotted the "traffic bird" today.  There is a bird song that plays at a traffic light for blind people, and I've always wondered what it was.  I hear the same song often in my yard, and finally found the singer in a tree today.  It was, I believe, a cardinal in its winter plumage.  A tufted bird - the red was very faint, but it was dim light, so it's always hard to tell.

Not much to see in the eastern sky this morning other than a passing jet with its lights aglow:

So I've posted a couple of shots of the southern (above) and western (below) sky, where some faint patches of blue showed their hopeful signs...

Here, also, is a stretch of lawn that is beginning (already!) to show the faintest signs of green.  I'll post this photo now, for the fun of contrast later on.