Paused. Forced into submission. On hold.
Dream deferred. Masterpiece almost finished, dangling words creaking out complaints.
Life interrupted schemes of literary grandeur. Mommyhood, Housewifery, Teachernomics takes over.
Next week I'll write becomes next month becomes after Christmas becomes May.
But May will come. This time will go. And I want to be able to look back and say, "I was a damn good mommyhouswifeteacher.
And the Autumn of 2010 was perfect. And then, when the Masterpiece is completed, the success will be that much sweeter, right? Because it was deferred? Right?