Trying to recover from a trip with my kids to New York City. My very first time. We did mostly the the main tourist stuff, because that’s what my daughter wanted. I didn’t get much of the softer, artsy stuff. But still, it leached under my skin. The idea of an artist’s life has invaded. Yes. That is what I wanted and needed. I needed to see the way to living an artist’s way. Now, in my middle age. I’m not an artist with a day job. Or someone who gave up on their artist dream because of the practicalities of life. I never had a dream of being an artist. I just knew I need to write. But it took me 40 years to get to writing my first piece. It was just for the drawer. Now, some…. seven years later, I want to focus on my writing first. But i need to keep my career job still. And it is a career, so it needs certain maintenance. So it hasn’t felt like I have the room on my list of priorities for my writing work to be taken seriously. Now, I see a possibility. I just don’t know how yet.
