Once upon a time I called myself a writer. That was 2 years ago now. I wrote a bunch of short stories, two of which were published; the rest of them were not. I wrote one first draft of a novel based on Star Trek. I wrote a second novel in a world of my own invention. And rewrote, and rewrote, and rewrote.
My inability to wrap up my second novel to my satisfaction and my waning enthusiasm for short stories, combined with the demands of my family life and my so called career led me to put aside writing.
I figured I should concentrate on what paid the bills; my job. And on my family.
Now I find I need a creative outlet, which my job doesn’t provide. It’s time to get back on the horse and see if I still know how to ride.