Practice Makes Perfect

So finally, I seem to be in the throes of developing an actual writing practice. A practice, you know; as if I’m a psychiatrist with a couch in rich, supple leather (not that half-assed bonded shit, no way) who hangs a shingle on her wall and looks down over the tops of her glasses and says “and how does that make you feel?”

Really, I just wanted to make space for writing in my life. And it’s been a long and fraught journey, somehow. One I’m still on. But I’m learning to make a go of it, and to write, although not necessarily like a motherfucker just yet, like it’s something that’s important to me. I’m learning.

So that’s what brings me here, to this blog that I all-but-abandoned about 2 years ago. You see, I’m committed to sitting here at my desk (I have a desk now!) in my office (I have an office! It has sheer curtains with birds on them and overlooks the street! Also, and more importantly for today, it has a space heater!) and writing. But I finished the one story I was working on, and sent it out to be workshopped the day before yesterday. And the other story I’m working on has reached a place where I need to let it percolate a bit before I decide what is going to happen next.

But I have to write. Right? Write.

So I remembered–I had this blog! I should write on it! No pressure, just when I, you know, feel like it. And that’s the whole idea of sitting in my office at my desk while drinking my coffee and toasting in the air from my space heater–it’s supposed to inspire me to feel like it. All cozy-like.

And guess what? It does. So I’m back…kind of, sort of, for as long as I want to be.