Counting the blessings

My daughter’s a writer-in-training,  in the middle of a degree in Professional and Creative Writing. She may go on to film school when she finishes. (She’s done their fee-paying “foundation course” part time last year.)

She despairs of becoming a great writer. She says that her childhood wasn’t traumatic enough.

True, she comes from a broken home, but the breakup was recent and possibly one of the most civilized on record. She was never abused, beaten, poverty-striken or starving. So, she wails, “Where is my angst to come from?”

And I’m the same, (not that I particularly want to be a writer, though I like to write); I’ve been pretty lucky with my life, and things are pretty good right now, too. The kids are on track,  I’m making (just) enough to keep fed, I indulge my hobbies and I have a loving relationship to sustain me.

So, dear reader, if I seem to be short on blog inspiration, remember my shortage of angst.


1 Response to “Counting the blessings”

  1. 1 sxKitten March 30, 2007 at 3:24 am

    I have the same problem – my life has been largely angst-free. Fortunately, I also lack any burning desire to be a writer.

    Maybe that’s why we don’t want to be writers?

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