As the sun sets on Cape Cod, another 4th of July vacation comes to a close. All but one daughter has left, we had one last great beach time today, one last barbecue, and now, while hubby returns the other daughter to Boston, the remaining one and I will end the holiday with a movie and ice-cream.
There is something I’ve learned about my “writing self” this week. With days full of people and activity, much like they were when I was working, my mind was kept busy and occupied and had very little time for wandering thoughts and meditation. My mind has been on vacation, too. This morning I was going to run a quick errand. My husband offered to drive me, but I declined. I just felt the need for a little drive by myself. I turned on the radio and Ryan Seacrest’s Top 40 was bantering away on the local station. I always keep an inspirational CD in the player for times when the radio music isn’t cutting it. I was listening to a pop song, with my finger on the CD button. Finally I pushed it. It was the right choice. The meditative music quickly took me to a place I craved. I began to realize just how much time I spend alone and how much it means when it comes to writing. Being on the go with family and friends for almost a week, thoughts were bottled up and writing moments were precious and few.
Years ago my husband became my biggest cheerleader for my writing. He used to tell me I’m going to write children’s books when I retire and that I need to come live here, in an artist’s community, to do that. I would laugh and never take him seriously. If I wanted to write, I could write just as well in rural upstate NY as I could here. It wasn’t until I pushed that button that I finally got it. Everything I learned in Julia Cameron’s, The Artist Way, made sense on that little jaunt to the store. Muddling through my weeks alone creates the time for thoughts to cross my mind, linger, fly away, or become a piece of writing.
I was pleased to find that I did have a rhythm to my days and a regular writing time had begun to find it’s place in it. It took six days of not having that time to to notice that I write naturally everyday and sorely miss it and become a little unbalanced if it’s gone too long. I also learned that by confidently saying, out loud, “I’m a writer” when people ask what I do, really does make it come to fruition.
“Becoming” a writer happened naturally, over time, without me forcing it or worrying about it. I always felt it would happen in its own good time. Now I’m adopting the same philosophy about publishing. It, too, will happen in the space and time it’s supposed to while I learn the ropes of the publishing world.
And so, as another day goes by, in writing, as in life, slow and steady wins the race, stating clearly who you are inspires the confidence needed to do the job, and…I have written.