Because of different appointments and events, I haven't had my regular writing schedule of full open days available to me. Yesterday on the way to and from the dentist, I wrote on the ferry. Well technically, I revised on the ferry. Lately my writing seems to be the thing that gets stuck in between appointments and events instead of the thing that I scheduled events and appointments around.
It feels as if writing has become my second car. It's the convertible I love to drive, but I'm in the routine of the practical SUV and every day I jump in the big gashog only to realize my favorite car (the one I care about) is being neglected. It's not as if I need to drive the SUV every day, but I'm in the habit of the SUV. But we know this isn't about cars, it's about choice. Making choices to give your writing time priority (and when I say "your," I mean "my").
There's a part of me that knows that this little three month period of neglect (Sept-now) is because of the hyper-focus I had on my writing the last three years with the MFA program. I'm allowing myself to take a break, "to fill up the well" (as some say), to be the socialite I wasn't. I have been saying yes a lot more and because of that, my calendar filled up with the things I neglected--friends, appointments, vacations.
But I realized this week, after being back from my vacation, after two dentist appointments, a poetry group, a list of errands, that the old feeling, the old want/need I had about my writing is returning in a much more serious way. I want to find--no create more time for my writing. I want to put it on my calendar--I am putting it on my calendar--and working my life around it. I have to.
In other news, we got a hedgehog.
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