I missed yesterday’s writing, but it should count that I spent a good amount of time discussing writing with a friend — someone who is also working on his first novel. And the entire experience left me remembering how much I used to profess that thinking is the most important aspect of writing. Of course, that doesn’t make much sense if I never actually sit down to write after that thought, so here I am. Processing. And I’ll do that through this weekend considering my novel, moving things around, adjusting bits of my character’s life — bits of ideas that only come with letting writing sit for a while. Letting it sit for as long as I have is probably not a good thing, but that will change in a few days.
Mid-week taking stock of things reveals I’m here and for the third day in a row, writing. And clearly, writing here means I’m not writing my book, but it’s not going anywhere. It will be much better waiting for me to establish a routine — even a glimmer of one before I sit down to finish it.
It seems no matter where I am on the web right now, someone somewhere is headed Back-to-School. Mothers are sad summer is over (or secretly not), healthy lunches are discussed (or those not so healthy tsk-tsked over), and teachers are settling in with yet another year’s classroom full of children. The smell of crayons and freshly sharpened pencils waft through the streets.
I woke up well before I normally do today, willing myself to stay in bed and lie still, listening to the fan whir back and forth, the puff of air it creates just reaching me. I watched the brightness on the walls created by the streetlight outside slowly fade as the dark sky made its way toward morning, but grew bored after a while and decided to get up.