I got home today and didn’t worry about writing. Because I’d already done it this morning.
I was extremely confused.
I woke up an hour early today, showered, got dressed, and hammered out a quick few hundred words before heading to work. It was bizarrely casual.
It almost felt… healthy.
I know I shouldn’t be making light of it–I should be enjoying it actually; I had a late shift today that ended earlier than usual, meaning I had hours more free time than I usually do, so writing on what I keep thinking of as “the schedule” (writing when I wake up, then going to the day job) was a lot easier today. In two days, I’m back on my normal schedule, which means I’ll have to be up before the sun does. And that means… I’ll have to start heading to bed at Old Man o’ Clock. It’ll be worth it.
But it’ll also be more difficult. Getting home at 11PM and waking up at 5 or 6AM is going to be rough.
So, really, I should be grateful that I got to play an extra hour or two of Warframe and watch some things.
And happy that being consistent–writing something every day–isn’t really challenging anymore.
The thing is, knowing that–feeling that lack of challenge–is why I’m thinking of this schedule as the schedule… I think I can actually use it for the rest of my life. As in, “I can imagine waking up every single morning and writing something, first thing. Every single day, until I die.”
I’m grateful for that.
I’m also… super intimidated.
Only for a moment though. Just–come on–let me have this. The veil has been lifted and I’m finding that there are suddenly no excuses between me and writing every day. It’s heavy.
I find myself thinking, “Did… did I work out the stupid kinks? Is this for real? Do I actually just write now? Like… write everything?”
Well… Okay then.
Let’s do this.
Words for the Day: 452
NaNoWriMo Total: 10,349