Lately ...

These days, my life revolves around work, the novel, trying to exercise a
minimal amount, and trying to spend time with Nate. For those who are
interested, I try to wake up at 5 on weekdays and write until 7. Then I
shower, get ready for work, eat breakfast, feed the animals (that makes it
sound like we have a barnyard instead of a couple of pets), work 9-5 (mostly,
unless the Museum has an event), then work out or not, have dinner with
Nate, and hang out.

I'm feeling good, just tired. I like getting up early, because the house is
quiet and it's ideal for writing, but I've never been a morning person.
The pivotal element to me getting up early is the programmable coffee maker.
We got it as a wedding gift, and I set it up the night before. I hear my
alarm but promptly turn it off. The great thing about the coffee maker is
that it beeps when it's finished brewing, so it's become my snooze alarm.
Once I hear the beep, it's much easier to haul my ass out of bed because I
know there is some hot coffee love waiting for me. So far, it's working, but
I have to admit that if I could manage to squeeze in a nap, life would be
much sweeter.

I've been thinking about one of my professors, and how she has her life set
up. She teaches two days a week, so on those days she doesn't write. Three
days a week are devoted to writing. She also gets about six weeks off
between the two semesters and all summer off. She does writing workshops
here and there (short ones, for a week or two) to supplement her income.
Then, of course, she has the sale of her books. I think that's close to
ideal. She's working part time, which gets her out of the house, but she
also has three full days a week devoted to her writing. I covet that. I
don't mind working; in fact, when all I do is write I stay in my head a
little too much. I need to get out and be with people at least some of the
time. Plus, I really like my job. It would just be nice to work less. I can
keep up this early-morning schedule for a while (and I definitely have to
until I finish my novel), but I know I can't do this the rest of my life.

Over the past few years, I've realized that I need writing in my life. I
almost don't even care if I'm good at it. Obviously I want to be good at it
and I want people to enjoy it, but even if I were truly horrible I would
still need to do it (I would just hide it and not show anyone). When I don't
write, I feel out of sorts, and like something crucial is missing from life.
Television I could live without, but reading and writing are critical to my
happiness.