This is my seventh day in a row, writing. It has been a long time since I invested this much time in what I love, and I have loved it. It has not been easy; taking the time to write, usually first thing in the quiet of the dawn; coming up with topics that strike me, and give me enough to go beyond a sentence; long, clumsy sentences that don’t make sense, deleted, re-written, deleted re-structured, not perfect but completed. For me, doing what you love is knowing you are far from perfect and doing it anyway. It took discipline and a little bit of commitment.
I once again return to those wise words that caused me to begin: even those with great talent must practice, and so, for me with little skill and only a wish, I must work doubly hard. I am better than I was a week ago, because a week ago I did not write. If the slowest run is faster than the couch, is the worst paragraph better than a blank page?
Writing has given me more than words. My thoughts, an often crowded, confusing chaos that needs a bit of sorting on a regular basis enjoy quality time to just roam free within the structure of sentence. Thoughts in order often help order elsewhere, like my desk, my kitchen and my laundry. Writing gives me a sense of achievement, I planned, I did, I completed. Every day. It is like ticking of your to-do list, a gold star, or for me at least, red tick in my copybook.
What good is a hobby that you don’t do? I ask sometimes, in conversation for the first time, “what do you enjoy doing?”, and they say reading. What did you last read? Oh, I can’t remember. What a shame. Or I love golfing but I only play when we are in Mexico. How sad, that you have to wait until you go on holiday to enjoy that which you love. It seems a bit of a waste, a waste of fun. There are those whose hobbies ended when they left school, I used to play football, I used to skate, I used to, once upon a time. Then there are the opposite, I quilt and there, you see in a massive handbag a small patchwork peeping out, waiting for an idle moment to finish the line of stitching. I scrapbook, and I am going away next weekend to get my next calendar done. You can hear the passion and feel the love, and these voices are the ones we gather to, the people who love and do. I run, I play football with other Mums. These are the people we follow. They don’t say I love to, they just, do. We all need a little fun and enjoyment. Life is hard. It is full of work and responsibility, paying bills, paying attention, getting the dishes done and remembering birthdays and anniversaries and who is married to whom.
My name is Kellie and I write.