I just spent 90 minutes writing.
And I wrote for 2 hours on the train earlier today.
Not grant writing. Not even journal or blog or email writing.
Not to denigrate those forms, they have helped sustain me.
But I have not written like this, for this amount of time, real creative writing, in YEARS.
And even this isn't entirely new, it's an article / story I'm working on for the class I'm taking, a memoir kind of piece about the making of See Me Naked.
But the primary point of importance here is that I wrote today, for 3 and 1/2 hours. Alone. Uninterrupted. Something I have not done since late spring 2004.
I am humbled and saddened by that realization. Although I would not trade away one moment of motherhood. And I actually miss my little family, right now, now that the writing is done and only solitary bed awaits.
But I need to, must, need to know this and remember it and not, not falter -
I am a writer.
I am a good writer.
I love writing.
If it took a solo trip to get me started again, fine.
If I need to take a train ride once a month, fine.
Ferries are cheap, too, and the one to Bremerton and back takes nearly two hours.
I just cannot wait anymore. I have to do this, and what I need is chunks of time away from the voices of husband and son.
I love being quiet. I just love it. I love my family, too, and I bet I'll love them even more when I get to have my writing time. My dreaming time. My life.