I am, despite all the setbacks and obstacles, a writer. I've been published intermittently, short stories, copywriting, currently political petition writing.
I long to write a thrice-weekly political blog and get paid for it.
Somewhere I have a completed novel that Adele Schulberg agreed to represent three weeks before she died. I also have a semi-complete (one written, the rest outlined) series of books for children/parents to read together.
What I don't have is time and space. My bipolar spouse is an invalid. We have a large family of rescue kitties (14) and I, too, am partially handicapped.
The time and space I am missing is that of being quietly, reflectively alone, or obsessively, compulsively filled with raw genius that demands space just to hold the sheer joy of creating and knowing it's good -- really good.