I haven't been writing much lately.
I love writing. Next to horses, it's my passion.
But lately, it seems more of a chore than a joy.
I used to be passionate about horse 4-H. I led a club for ten years, coached horsebowl and hippology (Greek for horse and study) for fifteen years. I still help out the state-bound teams. But the fire is gone. The old burning drive to be the best, to lead teenage girls (and the occasional boy) to do their absolute best, it's not there anymore. However, if a group of kids were to come to me for help, it'd be hard to turn them away....
I used to be passionate about country music. Singing? God, no. I can't carry a note in a basket. But concerts? I loved them. I braved Country Jam four years in a row, and I have the lines on my face from the sun to prove it. I loved Vince Gill so much that I traveled across the state three times to see him at State Fair. But I haven't been to a concert in years. If someone were to give me tickets to see anyone but Vince, I'd turn them down.
So why don't I love horsebowl and concerts any more? Is it because I was so overboard with both that I burned myself to the ground, as my friend Kim says? Partly. I don't do things halfway. I go balls to the wall, or since I don't actually have male anatomy, all the way all the time. I don't like half way or half done.
So why the burnout on writing? I still love it, but the fire isn't as hot as it once was. Partly, it's the time frame. I love to write, but I've always wanted to be published. I have always wanted my name on the cover. After eighteen years, the flame is a bit dim.
As you can tell from my years as a 4-H leader, and my concert chasing days, I don't quit easy. But I have to say that eighteen years, going on nineteen now, with no contract to call my own is a bit hard on the Constitution, as my grandma Margaret used to say.
I need something to get this flickering ember to burst into a full flame before it dies altogether.
How's your fire? Still burning hot?