I miss writing.
I know that probably sounds a little silly. I mean, if I miss writing, why don't I just write? Well, for one thing I'm still spending a lot of time on my book proposal. But the big reason I'm not writing much these days is that I'm too busy living.
Trust me, that's not as crazy as it sounds. When you write memoir or personal essay, you need perspective. As far as I can tell, it's nearly impossible to write about something while you are going through it. At least it is for me. Sure, you can journal, but I'm not a fan of that. Journaling leads to ruminating, which leads to me freaking out about things I can't change or control. No, there are just some stretches of life that aren't made for words, and I'm in one of them.
I will write about what is happening to me right now eventually, I know. Illness, injury, infertility. But until that day comes, until the physical and emotional pain has faded into an echo of a memory and I've been able to reach back and rearrange the suffering into a story, I will soak in the words of others and capture my life in images.