3 hours a day

Back when I was first recovering from surgery, and everything about my life and priorities seemed so clear and easy, I started writing for 3 hours every day, from Monday to Friday. I don't know what I thought I'd get out of it. It just seemed like the thing to do. It felt right. It helped me feel grounded and sane when everything thing else in my life seemed to be turning upside down. Sometimes good things came out of my writing: complete stories, interesting accounts of my recent adventures. Lots of days it was all just crap: lists of thing I needed to do, complaints about my aching body. When I came to Colorado, I kept doing it for a while, getting up at 5 am so I could still have the day to spend with my friends here. But, after awhile, other things seemed more important. Sleep seemed more important. Cleaning the litter box seemed more important. I was busy making breakfast, making phone calls, making a life for myself here in this city of my past. I stopped writing.

But when I came home from my 10 day visit to California earlier this month, I felt so clear again that writing is important for me to do. I'm still not certain why. It's a real act of faith, sitting down at the keyboard every morning, getting up at five am five days a week. Mostly I have nothing to show for it. I told myself that as part of my new writing routine I would also post something on one of my blogs every day. Even if it was really short, even if it was unpolished, even if it was self-indulgent drivel, I would put something up on either the Double Whammy Diary or The Adventures of Library Girl every single writing day.

That's what I've been doing. That's why the last 7 entries or so have been so sloppy. It's an experiment, I guess, in quantity over quality. Thanks for bearing with me.