I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands. I have just had an extra hour in my warm, cosy bed, which may be the ultimate item of a life of luxury.
When you are struggling to fit something new into your life, try fitting in another bigger project for a few weeks. When the bigger project ends, suddenly the smaller project can have a lot more time devoted to it. I sit here writing thinking of how little writing I need to do today. Even the days that I didn’t write, at every free moment, I knew I could, and should, be writing.
Instead, today I am going back to the hills. My rental skis are outside in the door waiting for me, and I am determined to spend more time on my feet this time. I look forward to yoga tonight, having given up 2 sessions already this week to focus on writing. Tomorrow, I plan on hitting the treadmill hard, not to recover from skiing, but because I have missed running. In my head, the sign “resumed normal service” has been posted. I will read again. My books are sitting waiting, lonely and hurt at the neglect. My alarm clock will go off an hour later from now on.
Somehow, sometime, I will look at how I can give a little more to writing. A little more time and energy, a little more criticism and review. I still read words and wonder how beautiful a collection of jumbled letters can be, how small little words can hold meaning and inspiration, love and motivation. I wondered if writing 50,000 words in one month would crush my love of words. This would have been a worthwhile lesson in itself, but no, instead it re-affirmed my love of story-telling and sentence building and letting my imagination go. I will stop writing about writing for a while.
Life resumes on December 1st. It resumes from a prouder point, a higher level, a happier spot.