I Don’t Write Everyday and That’s Fine With Me

I confess; I’m not an everyday writer. In fact, except for this blog entry, I haven’t written at all this week. Yes, that makes me a little nervous but I’ve learned to live with it. I celebrate Christmas and so there was baking, decorating, shopping, card writing (doesn’t count as writing), cleaning, hosting, visiting, etc.. I probably could have squeezed in a few minutes of writing here and there but I chose to wait until I knew I would have a couple of hours to sink into it. I’ve learned that writing in every spare minute makes me very anxious. I feel rushed, but worse, somehow squeezing it in always makes me feel as though I never spend enough time on writing. It makes me feel as though all the other things I do are just stealing time from my writing. I don’t want to feel that way. I don’t want to feel that helping my daughter finish the family tree project she wanted to present for Christmas was time stolen from my writing. I wanted to bake. I wanted to finish knitting the scarf I started in 2012. Maybe I didn’t really “want” to push through the mobs and see the tree at Rockefeller Center but I did it anyway. I love writing but I love other things in my life, too. So, I do prioritize writing–I always have a short story going. And there are times when I’m so involved in a story that just about everything else comes second. But more times than not, I’m writing around my life. I don’t think that makes me any less commited than an everyday writer. It’s just my style.