I’m grabbing dinner before a class I’m taking, and today turned into one of those days where instead of writing this in the calm of morning, I’m cramming it into the ten minutes I have to cram this falafel wrap down my throat.
I woke up late, and it didn’t really dawn on me that it was Tuesday – blog day – until sometime this afternoon.
I love my mornings of being a writer. But I haven’t been able to get out of bed before 6:30 since we got back from Mexico, over a week ago. I’ve fended off the self-judgment a remarkably long time. I have noticed how hard it is to do what I want to do without those morning hours to myself. I do worry I’m about thisclose to chuffing myself for turning off the alarm, berating myself for how little I seem to be editing.
I know I don’t love writing as if it’s a “have to.” Ironically, that’s the source of most of my productivity these days: I’m taking a feature writing journalism course and participating in an online fiction workshop. I think because these are about accomplishing deliverables, and the focus turns away from the process and turns it toward the output.
The early mornings are only about process. Lord knows I have to enjoy them because it’s not my natural tendency to wake up at 5. As evidenced by my ability to sleep until 8 if my alarm doesn’t go off. Even if I go to bed at 10.
Missing them and wanting to have the process feel calmer is a much more motivating way to return to them, than is giving myself a hard time for not.
Lesson learned. Just in time for class to start.