Hi Jade, Yes, I think many people who do any kind of writing recognize that sort of dark thing where you think what you’re doing isn’t very good and maybe it’s time to stop.

Gail, What can I say? You’re a lovely friend, and I’m so glad I know you.

It seems part of the issue here is how wide a community you can claim and create. And how wide a community you can look to for support. If it’s only you and W, trying to meet all the needs of three active growing boys, it seems nigh on impossible to do anything else.(How many ganglions do they grow daily? and how on earth do you feed THAT appetite?)When you *do* take or figure out how W or school or camps or play dates or at-home projects can stand in and do the feeding, then you end up feeding me (and all the others who make up your wide wide net of readers.)

My life and E’s life is better because I read you whenever you write. Your blog makes my life richer; I feel less alone, and often less crazy and often entertained and lighter, and often challenged to think some new thought.

So in part, the question you are asking, is who do you support and how do you cover all your many bases.

You’ve also created a living room that we get to visit. I don’t just read you, but all the comments that you get and respond to which extends my community, albeit one step removed into something akin to condoned eavesdropping.

I’m forced these days to examine the huge difficulties America creates with our nuclear families and “do it alone” values. Nothing like being a single mother to raise THIS. If we were soley responsible for a little less, and jointly responsible for a little more, would it ease us?

Nova, That’s enough, don’t you think?

W, R. I think there’s something so interesting and important in what you say. I’d love to hear more about those women who’re doing that balance — and I agree with you that it is entirely possible to do it, particularly in the time you might otherwise be spending drinking, having a hangover, and drying out. As you say, that’s pretty time consuming and the amount of life you see in the carpool that might make it into your stories and novels is huge compared to what you see in a bar when you’re totally smashed. So, that’s a long winded way of saying that I agree with you.

Well, then, Yogamum, you must have things you want to say! I’m glad you’re finding a way to say them.

Pauline — I think this is a very fruitful time to be writing — the new experience you’re having is very raw and very exciting and if you have the presence of mind to get some of it down on paper, you’ll be so glad you did when you have time to take a breath and read it all over. I’m glad you’re doing that.

Welcome Becky — it’s certainly the case that many of us need to spend time thinking over the cost of pursuing something that’s so chancy, and yet so expensive, in terms of time and energy away from other things that need attention too. And congrats on that cute new baby, by the way!

Well Charlotte, I’m glad you’re going right back in there, before you let yourself spend too much time thinking about anything other than your story. Good for you and good luck with it all.

Litlove, I wonder how long that feeling lasts? I’m sure it’s situational, because the original strong impulse to get things down on paper is in there somewhere, even when it’s buried under other things. I think that reading one’s way back into enthusiasm about writing might be a very effective thing to do at times like this.

I think you’re right, Polaris. It’s not a morbid, poor me, talk me out of doing what I should be doing and in the process praise the heck out of me, kind of question. The cost of working at a solitary, unpaid, time-consuming pursuit is not small, and if you’re going to do that, it seems like the honorable and responsible thing is to make sure it really does matter, and that you really do have something to add to whatever conversation you’re participating in. Now, no one can really tell you the answer to those questions, an answer that’s more instinctive than anything else. Also, there are a lot of things in the way of getting an honest answer — one’s insecurities and fears can make it hard to assess whether what you’re doing is worth doing, and also one’s hopes that seem to be answered by writing, but in fact could be answered by something else with a much smaller cost are difficult to identify — to name two such things. Anyway, it’s an ongoing inquiry, isn’t it?

Marie, Do you know that thing Rilke says in Letters to a Young Poet, about how difficulty is a guide to whether you should keep going? Or maybe what he says is as simple as hard things are generally worth doing? I do believe that, and not in a masochistic way — but I think when something is difficult, that’s like a flare being sent up in your brain that you should keep going, keep looking into the thing. For example, when I know I’m avoiding thinking about something, I force myself to look at it, because, as difficult as that thing is to look at, it’s always worth finding out what’s there.

Jade, What an interesting thought! There is certainly value in taking a breath, and in pausing — it’s not something to panic about, and in fact there can be useful and good things that occur in that pause, as you say.

You are so right, Ms. Make Tea. It’s the good day we all look for that makes growing vegetables look like they might not turn out to be a life’s passion after all. Which is not to say that choosing vegetable-growing as a life’s work isn’t a wonderful thing to do, or that you can’t fit that into your writing pauses… But I think y’re right to remember that the good days happen and matter in keeping a writer going.

I couldn’t possibly quip an answer here on whether I’d give up writing for a heart’s desire. But it deserves serious pondering simply because, as you also point out, writing takes time and takes time away from people and things…even though we are fortunate to have people around us who are supportive. So, yeah, I’m going to walk around this weekend giving it some thought.