Writing...

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.

Five years.

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.



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