My Heart

Some days my feet are light
And I dance as if on air
Other days they’re heavy
As I trudge a path of despair

While in my lows, I wallow
Yet my highs can touch the stars
But whether in joy or sadness
My heart is wherever you are

A short poem ~ by Meg Sorick

Just a note; this is hyperbole, lest you all think I’m suffering from bipolar disorder.

Blame It On My A.D.D.

This writer’s life…

My friends and regular readers will know by now that I have many interests. While I try my best to concentrate on writing, I find great enjoyment in art and photography. But I also have a day job: I am a chiropractor with an office in my home. This June 3rd, marked 23 years in practice, the first 18 of which was spent in a busy, multi-doctor office. I said goodbye to that at the end of 2013.

While I have been pleased to care for my faithful patients, friends and family here at home, the business side of things has never been my strong suit. I despise the paperwork, the red tape and the hoop-jumping one has to do in the name of healthcare. It takes the joy out of practicing a healing art. Recently, some of the rules changed again for maintaining a license. It’s a good and necessary rule, mind you, but it requires extra fees for continuing education. Someone always finds a way to make money. So as I did my taxes this year, I considered just how profitable it was for me to remain in this small, part-time, cash practice when the cost of insuring my office, continuing education, license fees, and malpractice insurance all keep climbing. My conclusion? It isn’t profitable at all. And I don’t have the zeal or drive to go out and build my practice up anymore. My heart is in a different place. There’s more to the story, however. We are considering a move. Trying to practice in a new location presents a whole list of challenges. So on August 31, 2018, I will close the door on Dr. Margaret Sorick, Chiropractor.

You might be thinking: “Wow, pretty nice that she has the luxury to pursue writing full time.” Yes, that would be wonderful, however, I still feel the need to contribute to the household bottom line and novel writing is a slow and uncertain way to earn an income. Hopefully, one day I will be a best selling author, but for now I need to be realistic. So what am I going to do for work?

One of the aspects of writing that I find enjoyable is editing. My own professional editor, has often remarked that I don’t give him much to do. I have edited for four other writers just for fun and they were all happy with the results. I started thinking it might be something I could do for income. Coincidentally, Writer’s Digest offers classes and workshops in the art of writing, editing, and so forth. One of their copy editing classes started this month and I enrolled. There is an advanced class to follow. At the end of the course, I can either try to find a job copy editing or do some freelance work on my own. It also allows me to work from anywhere as long as I have a good internet connection. And obviously, my own writing will benefit from the course as well.

As one door closes, another one opens, they say. I only hope this new door opens onto cool, green meadows and not a grubby, back alley filled with dumpsters! Time will tell and of course I’ll keep you posted!

White Flag

A poem by Meg Sorick*

It’s a war of attrition
When the cease fire is ordered
No one knows who gave the command
The result is a stalemate
Neither side can claim victory
Even though both will
And as the soldiers wearily lay down their weapons,
Trudge, exhausted from the field
Someone raises a white flag on the line
Amidst the rubble
When the smoke clears
There is nothing but devastation
As far as the eye can see

*This piece was originally a second stanza to the poem I posted a couple weeks ago: The Last Scene. I separated the two, even though the theme is the same, the structure was different. At some point I may reconstruct both parts into one poem … if I can figure it out. Because this is not about war, and The Last Scene is not about theater, they are allegorical. I feel like there needs to be another concluding stanza as well. Poetical insights welcome.

~The illustration is my own~