For the past several weekends, I have felt like life has just gotten away from me. My days have been filled with constant activity and time with people. Now, this is hardly a bad thing. It is wonderful to spend my weekends with friends -- eating, chatting and enjoying life. It is absolutely fantastic to have all of my close friends right down the street from me! But, when Monday rolls around and I have only written about 200 words all weekend, I feel incomplete. I feel like my weekend missed a pivotal moment.
This weekend has been different. I have made a personal point of making this weekend about me. I selfishly planned my time so that I could spend quality time immersed in writing rather than a few minutes here and there. As a result, I feel like I have given myself the opportunity to re-obsess myself with my characters and their story. I feel a passion that I have been lacking for a while now. I feel my mind swirling with thoughts. And it feels amazing.
And I even have devoted myself to time at a coffee shop. So here I sit, at our old stomping ground, The Grind. Back in the spring when I first began to live the life of a writer, Roommate Cousin was conveniently studying for the CPA. That meant that all of her evenings were spent studying at coffee shops and a better part of her weekend as well. And I got into the habit of going with her. The result was a 50,000 word novel written in just three weeks.
Now, I don't wish that her life was about studying again, that was not fun either, but I do need to be far more intentional about being selfish. Selfishness is not always a bad thing. It is important to spoil ourselves and to use time to do the things that we love. And I love to write. I love to imagine and create.
I am sitting with a few friends, drinking a chai latte, and writing. And I love life.
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