It’s been a while since I posted anything, and this may be nothing too. The concrete has taken over and weighed me down. I vacillate between wanting to write and filling the needs of my family. Can I write to help my family and fill both needs? It doesn’t work that way, at least for me. I have to be in a place mentally and physically in which I lose myself in the process, living upon a different level. But thoughts intrude on even the most secluded moments (though these are few). I think to myself about what will please the reader, the editor, grammar police…I get spun around by tornadoes of thought and strain against the winds to reach what? No one will want to read the pinnacle of my piece until everyone wants to read it. Therein lies the crux: to go along my merry mad way or to bow to an audience of finance?