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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Where Does Time Go?

This is a question I almost expect my son to ask someday. He hasn't, yet. But he might.

I'm asking it right now, when I realize I last posted a very long couple of weeks ago.

Where did it go?

Into a Thanksgiving Trip to Arizona, to see family from far and wide;

into loads and loads of work and more work as productions gear up and meetings are held and designs are made and people talk and other people talk and email never stops;

into a trip to SeaWorld's Holiday Night for members - a splurge I made when friends visited in June, memberships for Finn and I... Some (like my husband) may call it cheesy or commercial or crowded - but with a 4 year old, my 4 year old, on my lap listening to carols and the live classical guitarist and watching Shamu and friends leap through the water on a dark, dark night - I call that wonderful;

into a show at The Old Globe, How the Grinch Stole Christmas - again, perhaps cheesy/commercial/crowded to some, and with a song or two that went on a tad too long - but they make it snow inside the theatre, and Finn said in the dark and clapped his hands, and when songs went on too long looked up and me and whispered, "I need see the Grinch" - showing his already well-developed appreciation for complex character over sentimental song.

And into time with Kenny, talking about life and how we want to live it.

That's where Time goes, has gone, for me, over the last few weeks.

And now, it takes me to bed.

I love going to bed. At 9:37pm. Wow.




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