Why I Write
My eldest daughter and her family moved recently. They now live 9 hours away from me. Neither of my children have ever lived so far away. I'm having a hard time getting used to it.
But I have a hard time getting used to change anyway. I think that's why I continue to write. It has become a crutch for me. It must be. I have never sold anything. Doesn't look like I will. But I'm too afraid to go out and live, so I just keep doing the same thing over and over.
My daughter told me last night about how happy they are up there. How they haven't been this happy in a long time. I'm happy for them. Really, I am. My youngest daughter and her family are happy, too. They live here in town, but have enormously active lives. I need a life, too. Instead of writing about people with lives, I need to make one for myself.
I think further examination is needed here.