This week in my memoir and personal essay class our assignment is to spend at least 10 minutes writing each day. You might be under the impression that a writer writes everyday.
This is absolutely not true, at least not usually.
Sure, I write words everyday, but when I don't write in Yoke or have a massive deadline or have some freak burst of inspiration, I do all sorts of other things. I read. I research. I reach out to sources. I eat Oreos. I reschedule meetings to make more time for writing. I wonder where all my pants are and I ask everyone I know what sort of shoe goes with "RAINS EVERYDAY BUT SICK OF RAINBOOTS." I have mini-public tantrums at meetings designed to be simple and non-emotional in the high school cafeteria over the grading scale in our town.
Writers are busy, just like the rest of you! Producing content is hard, friends. Yesterday, I did a few writing sprints to finish up my very first long-form personal essay. I had three trusted personal readers--people I know who would lift me up but also warn me if I was deranged or nonsensical. I submitted my essay to my workshop for critique last night and now, as of 10:40pm, no one has submitted a critique. I did reread my essay this morning and realized that it might be the best thing I ever wrote; maybe even revival my two-part series on cataract surgical care from 2021 in Yoke!
Speaking of Yoke, I mentioned this place in a discussion last week about the writing process (my process involves Oreos or Twizzlers and developing diabetes). Someone asked me what Yoke means and it was so nice to be asked a question that I could answer! I don't remember what I said mostly because so much happens in September that I have trouble keeping everything straight.
The week's been intense and thus far I've been embroiled in many intrigues and debates and I haven't even sent out my cancer-survivor and dyslexia missives yet. Tomorrow is my in-person "adhere to my son's IEP and treat him like the genius he is" meeting. I know his teacher is REALLY looking forward to it; almost as much as they are looking forward to my follow-up email with all it's handy "bullet points" and links to data studies and generous use of "bold."
If you have a kid with an IEP, you know exactly what I am talking about.
Anyway, I've written for 10 minutes and I just don't think I can do anymore. I am supposed to note how I felt about this writing. Since I am a mess, I'll mention my feeling here, instead of writing it elsewhere and losing it. I feel tired and scattered and relieved and that I am forgetting something important.
If only I could remember whatever it is!