My calendar is making a shift back to prioritizing writing time. At times, this is exciting; at times, it’s almost scary. There are seasons in life, and I’m embarking on a new one, with the inspiration of a sister-in-law home from college for the summer and beyond enthusiastic about researching the options she’ll have once she has her degree in hand, in just a few more years.
Energy like hers is contagious (she’s a large part of the reason I ran a half marathon a few months back), and having a work buddy makes it easier to sit down and work regularly. Working regularly alleviates some of the self-imposed pressure of getting it right the first time because there doesn’t seem to be enough time.
The more I write, the more I am willing to rewrite, the more time I am willing to take to get it right, because I see that editing does make a difference. Time makes a difference. Reading more, thinking more, talking with trusted readers more adds layers and untangles tricky bits and makes the whole process more fulfilling.
I have experienced a certain fear that what I’m doing will not be good enough, that even when I edit, I might not recognize the errors in a first draft and then let them linger far too long. But that fear doesn’t make for a good attitude, and it doesn’t make for good writing.
If I’m willing to see what I’m capable of, then there’s no better place for me to be than in this chair, with my fingers to the keys.