Blogging, for the most part, is not a troublesome activity. I'm not the world's most open or gregarious blogger, and I keep my, my friends' and my family's private lives just that, private.
The problem always arises when a friend or family member is suffering. It takes up much of my thoughts and energy and yet, out of issues of privacy and delicacy, I can't talk about it on the blog. At times like those, it also feels like a betrayal if I talk about anything else, as if I'm commenting somehow by eliding their private life. Also, it's just damn tricky to think of anything to say when the only thing I've been thinking about, I can't talk about.
All of which is very elusive, isn't it? Anyway, the point is, I've been a little silent of late. A friend recently suffered a death in her family. Given that this particular death was in utero, 39 weeks in utero to be precise, it's hit everyone pretty hard, and turned not a few worlds upside down.
The writing has been …
scraping along progressing. I'm not sure if it's the scads of life issues, or the novel, but this particular beast apparently does not want to be written. I have reverted to the scattershot process almost continuously now, and it's tricky, putting words down and knowing I'm just writing a mass of inconsistencies that will need bucketloads of fixing. But words on paper can be fixed; the same cannot be said for words in my head.
So, yes, I'm still here, and I haven't forgotten the blog. I'm just prioritising my energies at the moment. I'll be back soon.