….not in the way you think
I have a secret life. A life my wife and kids don’t know about. It’s a life of writing on Medium (and some other platforms).
They see me tap away at my keyboard but they ask no questions. None of them seem interested in what I am writing. They don’t ask if they can read it.I guess it’s a “don’t ask, don’t tell” agreement we must have, although I don’t remember entering into such a contract.
Their lack of curiosity about my nightly writing can be they are simply respecting my space and privacy, or it can mean they are completely uninterested in my writing. I prefer the former rather than the latter, although my instinct tells me it might be the reverse.
Either way, writing has unintentionally become my mistress.
Much like any other affair, it happens in plain sight (my knowledge of affairs is informed by novels, movies and the occasional acquaintance who shares their personal experience with such matters).
My relationship with my writing is very personal and intimate. I don’t share much of it with anyone at home. It’s my private world. My private relationship.
Still, I don’t hide when I write. I write at home. I write sitting on the porch, or in the kitchen, or in my reading space in my bedroom. There is no sneaking around.
I did not decide for it to be this way. Like most secret lives, it just happened.
Perhaps it’s the clandestine aspect- however haphazard it might be- that inspires me to write more creative stories. Or maybe I’m just imagining that to be true. Either way, I hope that when my wife and kids discover my writings, they will enjoy them. More importantly, I hope I do not lose my mojo for writing now that my secret is out.
(This post is meant to be satire- in case I missed the mark)