Note # 34 – Writing Is Routine

So, for the past four weeks, as the darkness of November settled in to stay, I’ve started this new routine.  Every morning I’ve been getting up much earlier than usual, before the rest of the household has even stirred from their beds, sneaking down into the basement, lighting the fireplace and writing.

It’s been amazing.

The world is quiet and I’ve got a time limit – I’m on call to make breakfast and then Gavin requires his morning tour of the neighbourhood.  Later, there are tiny humans who have to be taught to read and a host of other jobs to be dispatched and errands run, but from 6:00 until 7:45 a.m., it’s just me, my laptop and the people in my head. I’m not thinking about what to thaw for supper or if the car needs gas or what some troglodyte said on Twitter.  I’m not overthinking the plot or wondering if I’ll hit my deadlines or trying to think of ways to market the new book.

I’m just writing.

And it is glorious.

Later, I reward myself with a sticky note that shows the date and my word count – it can’t be less than 500 words and I have to have at least a bit of an idea of where I’m going the next day – but since I’ve been doing this, let me tell you, the sticky notes have really been piling up.

Don’t break the chain, I keep telling myself when my alarm goes off and I’m warm and snug in my bed.

This routine is good for so many reasons.

For one thing, I’m happiest when I’m writing – so why not be happy every day?

For another, this is how you write 110,000 words – 500 at a time.

But mostly it’s good because it means that every day, for just a little while, I’m in Stafford Falls, hanging out at the café, watching Olivia wrestle with the portrait she is painting of Eddie Spaghetti, listening to Julia (who has a beautiful melodious voice, I think,) and eavesdropping on Nana and Angie and Penny Clarke as they discuss the news from the luncheon committee.

To be honest, when my morning writing time is up, it’s hard to wrench myself away from them all, and go back to real life with its petty annoyances, traffic jams and freezing rain.  I often trudge up the stairs from the basement reluctantly, but then I think, it’s okay… I get to go back to the Falls tomorrow.

P.

P.S.  Kathy, the chapter titles are for you…