The writing. Where is it? Gone? On vacation? Squashed down, hiding? Snuffed out?
I'm trying to decide if it's the teaching of such mediocre and "at-risk" students that saps my energy. Well, yes, it does that, but teaching has never stolen my voice. That inner voice that tells me what to write, that makes up words and sentences as soon as I sit down to work. I am not bugged by that voice anymore, not awakened by it, not interrupted in mid-lecture with thoughts that I should write down.
Is this it? Is it over? With just the handful of scholarly publications, the glossy magazine features, and the file cabinet drawer of unpublished stuff?
I worry, deeply, about this.
