I've taken a long break from writing.

It's only as I come around to the idea of writing again that I realize how hard it is to do. I mean, for most of the six years I was writing, I considered myself somewhat lazy. Sitting around all day, putting a couple thousand words down, didn't seem all that hard.

But now? You know what? I don't know if I'd call it hard work, but it is certainly intensive and all-consuming. It's intimidating to know that my life will be completely taken over by a story, by doubts, by fiddling with words, by ignoring everything else around me so I can concentrate long enough to feel the story.

It takes true dedication. It isn't something I can do on a whim.

And that's daunting. Much easier to just drift through life.

I spent the same kind of effort at the store for decades. It isn't something that can be seen by others. It's all internal, the constant worry and trying to make it work.