Everything everyday but write. (Day 269, Year 3)

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!