I'll be honest folks.
And on day 27 I'm all like:
|I just can't quit this picture. It kills me every. single. time.|
But a few of my friends and several writers all seem to say the same thing: just write anyway.
Every once in a while I daydream about making writing a source of income. It's a notion I really don't take too seriously right now, but perhaps a dream for later on down the road. These 31 days have been a realistic opportunity to see how it feels to write everything that might be in your heart and head and get it down and posted for the world to read. I honestly love being able to write in this space. But it's a job like everything else--there are good writing days and then there are the days you have to hunker down and just do work because that's what you're supposed to do.
My husband and I chatted about this during the commercial break and he reminded me that while he has his dream job managing our beloved camp, there are plenty of days spent cleaning toilets and mowing grass because the mundane must happen in order to make room for the extraordinary.
So here it is, my post for the evening about how we still push forward when we really don't want to at all. We grade those papers and we wash those dishes and we pay the bills and we file the forms and we put the clothes away after we've folded them. We go to the meetings, we drive in the carpools, and we make sure everyone has everything that they need for everything because that's what we simply must do to make life happen.
Ebb and flow, ebb and flow.
Love and smooches,