I have been unable to write much since Ken died in December. It's not that I can't... It's that I have been apathetic to writing. I am beginning to dabble in writing once again. Writing makes me happy and perhaps that is why it's taken me so long to be able to write again. Though I am grieving still, it's not the overwhelming, heart-wrenching pain that I had been experience. It's more of a sadness mixed with the bittersweet taste of tears.
Now that I am happy once again... Indeed happier than I have been, since my sweet husband began to get sick, I am writing again.
I may have to change my genre... I can't seem to find the darkness in me that has often shadowed my writing. And you know what that is okay. If I write happier things that reflect the happier me. While my heart will forever belong to the supernatural, who can blame me for writing a cozy mystery? Or a romance? How about erotica?
This is where my thoughts are wondering and my writing has been reflecting a lighter side of me.