If you really knew me, you'd know that writing is the purpose of my life right now.
If you really, really knew me, you'd know that my body and my mind are getting old. I have a couple of good years left, I think, and I feel like I need to finish all my writing before my mind and body give out.
If you really really really knew me, you'd know I'm judgmental. I don't say anything, but I think it. I can't help it. And of course I'm judgmental of myself as well.
Where do I go from here? I write, and I do the other things that writers have to do. And when I get depressed, I do three things - talk to people, get out of the house and get exercise.