Write about your greatest fear
There are lots of rubbish, crappy things I could write about here. All those silly little phobias that you carry over from childhood; the dark, monsters under the bed etc. I’m not going to write about those, simply because they aren’t what this question is about.
My greatest fear, something I discovered last night, is that everything I’ve done so far with my life is a waste. That may sound a bit melodramatic, but at the moment I’m being forced to reassess my life and prioritise in a way that makes previous attempts look like a joke! Big whoop – I now have a timetable that tells me what I should be writing and when… I’ve cut out those activities that I just don’t have time for so I can give my focus over to writing. Well done, Illy; I should have done that years ago. -_-
No, no, I mean in the upcoming months I’m going to have to choose between my children and my writing. And that’s not even a choice! Of course my children are going to win that little bout; there’s no contest there. But what does that mean about everything I’ve been planning and writing and putting together for the last five years?
Not to say that my twins will make it impossible to do any writing; but it will make it horrendously difficult. And I can already see that my priorities are changing. I’ve been choosing to stay in and rest rather than go out and play games. Or I’ve stepped away from a computer where good things were spilling out of my fingers so I could write details down on my little ‘I-felt-the-twins-kick-me-chart.’ Even now, before they’ve shown up, writing is getting pushed further and further back in my schedule.
My word count for January was fabulous (if I do say so myself), February wasn’t bad, but I’m going to struggle to meet March if I don’t pull my finger out.
So what does all this mean? Does it mean that my mind is slowly working towards saying ‘I don’t want to do this any more? I want to give myself utterly over to the two new lives that are going to depend on me for everything for the first stage of their lives? And then, of course, continue to depend on me as they grow?’ I know that’s what its like; because I still lean heavily on my mother. She doesn’t need to feed me, clothe me or burp me any more, but there are times when I need to hear her voice so badly that I can’t think of anything else. That’s the sort of thing I’m scared of, because I already know that if I am writing something in… I don’t know- twenty years time and one of my children phones me with a crisis, the writing will be forgotten in an instant. I’d get in a car and drive straight to them if they needed me, because that’s what I want to do for them. So writing automatically takes a back seat.
My greatest fear – at least right now – is that all the grand plans and novels I have planned will take a back seat to my children and that I have, in effect wasted my time up to now. Part of that fear will be realised as soon as they pop out of me – because my writing, including this blog I suppose – will end up way down the list of priorities after I’ve taken care of what they need, but the rest? I don’t know if it’s a waste; I don’t know if I can still do as much or push as far as I was planning this time last year. And that’s what’s scary; the unknown.
My 80 Post Challenge is brought to you with help from Tom Slatin’s 80 Journal Writing Prompts.