Getting back

I have to start writing again.

When I first started teaching, I recall someone asking me if I was still writing. My response was something along the lines of, “By the end of the day, my students have sucked any and all creativity out of me.” I might have even compared them to leeches.

Cowardly, I know. Like Hemingway ever said, “I’m an alcoholic and can’t write today.” Or Fitzgerald said, “Zelda is going mad again and I just don’t have it in my to write.”

Rather, they used the writing to make structure [I think] of some sort in their lives. To guide them along.

Fast forward to 7 years later. . . I have to start writing again. I’ve often thought of waking up earlier in the morning, maybe writing from 5:30 to 6. I know this is not a reality. I am definitely not a morning person. But I have to do something to start bringing those things I love(d) back into my life. It’s amazing how our days can pass by… sure, we’ve “done things.” We’ve gone to work, done laundry, cleaned house, gone food shopping, maybe bought a new picture or two to hang up. But I think about it like this—if I died today and those activities were the “basics” of my daily life, …well… it’d be a pretty boring obituary to read.