meltdown day

Today I just wept in the middle of the mall on the phone to my husband, because my daughter was acting up. I felt stupid, dumb, guilty afterward. It seems like she makes me behave like a kid, all complaining, not in control of myself. And it felt like everybody, their mother and their dog was staring at us.

I guess in terms of what I want to do, my last week or so should be called productive. I've got some story ideas, a couple which are actually not the fluffy stuff you find in women's magazines. I've contacted people for interviews, sent off my first children's story for the very first time, got some of my script written.

But... There's always a but, isn't there? I'm feeling like I'm whoring myself. I've always wanted to write [i]literature[/i]. Try as I may, all the writing I've been doing is non-fictional or children's stories - which is still not [i]literature[/i]. My friend Monica always used to say - [i][b]life is wiser than you are[/b][/i], so for now I'm just going with the flow. Maybe one night, fresh with the stuff of my dreams, I'll wake up and write my first piece of good fiction. It just doesn't look likely right now.