When you think about all the authors out there who make a living just writing, it’s easy to get pretty envious. I’m not sure that would ever be the life for me. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of hiding away in some desolate cabin or ranch or villa (preferably villa) and just whiling away the hours writing sounds like a dream come true. But I don’t know that I could just do that. Wake up, write all day, the end.
Being a teacher is part of my identity. It explains a lot about me, like why I go to bed so early, and why I frequently have to hide alcoholic beverages when I’m in public, or why I can’t wear my pajamas out in public anymore. It’s also my source of inspiration. I write for them and my own fifth-grade self. I write because they inspire me with their lives and their writing.
I’ve been struggling with what my priorities are lately. I want writing to be a priority, but it seems to be the first thing that I let go of when I get stressed and busy, well, second thing (exercise is definitely the first to go). When I think about why I’m letting it go so easily I can think of a few reasons: it’s hard, it makes me think and question myself, it takes time. But when I weigh those reasons against the reasons why I write: to inspire my students, to express myself, to be free, there’s just no comparison. Writing must become a priority.
I have the next 6 weeks free and clear from any pressing obligations, with the exception of a wedding to go to, but that’s not an obligation, it’s a celebration. So when I think of all I could accomplish in 42 days, I become downright giddy. I need to start solid writing routines that will carry with me into next school year, so that even when I’m busy and pulled in a million directions, I carve out the time to do the work.