I’m back at my studio after two weeks of travel, early school dismissals, and sinus infections. Inspite of the goodness that is family mangement/motherhood. it never ceases to amaze me how that gig can consume every last drop of time for creative pursuits.
It’s bittersweet to be here these days, knowing that I’ll have to pack it all up soon. I got a lot done here, in this room of my own. I grew as an artist and writer. I tried brave new things. But, all in all, all of my bigger goals have gone unmet. I’m still not making money as a writer, or as a minister. After much initial interest, my first book proposal is still drifting around, nearly dead in the water. People ask me to teach, then back down when they hear I charge a standard professional fee (that’s life with non-profits I suppose.) I haven’t figured out the freelancing thing. (I can’t seem to write fast enough to get out the critical mass necessary to land a few articles.) And my Etsy shop was just starting to turn a profit, but now I have to shut it down in January because of the overseas move.
I’m glad, so glad, that I’ve rented this room of my own…but sad too, that I’m still so stuck in my journey to the land of professional writers. I’m trying to embrace the small is beautiful concept that even a small start is enough, but sometimes it’s hard.
What do you do when your goals seem unachievable?