The season is changing, back to school.  The relaxed unstructured pace of summer is replaced with buzzing alarm clocks and rushed mornings.  Until I adjust my gait over here to get in stride with fall’s rhythm, it is almost impossible to set aside free time.

So instead of removing myself from whatever is going on to write, I allow that time to be stumbled upon.  I find my time to be more productive in this way.  I know I can use the discipline in writing and forcing the time would benefit me in some ways.  But my writing is better somehow when I know I’m not missing something because I’ve made myself steal away to write.  That tactic is now reserved strictly for inspired moments that would otherwise drive me insane (er, more insane?) if I don’t capture them immediately on paper.  Instead, I find the time where I can.  Moments when my honest full attention can be freely given without that gnawing of missing family time.  They, my family, are my true north.  My compass will always point me in their direction and that’s not going to change.  I won’t fight it.  And I’m more than good with it.

So I’ve found the time here and there.  And when I have, my mind flows more freely.  I write this as everyone is sleeping.  I could go veg in front of the plug-in-drug . . . let bills, sports schedules, school paperwork and job worries slip numbly away while basking in the glow of the tv.  Here is where I exercise my discipline and slip to a quiet corner with a notebook instead.   No worries that I’ll snap on someone because I’m trying to catch that perfect image in my mind and transform it to words.  No more “Mommy’s trying to write right now” culminating to “For the love of God, please let Mommy write!” After which the itch in my mind starts.  Did I just shut down a conversation with one of the most important people in my life?  I know that some of my life’s most beautiful moments were born of these simple conversations. 

Yep.  There is no way I’m bumping them to write.  It is counterproductive anyway.  I’ll spend the rest of my writing session preoccupied, wondering if I just missed one of those beautiful moments.  No more stressing about forcing it.  I’ll take fewer more honest and devoted writing sessions over many distracted broken ones any day.  My mind can create freely and at its natural pace.  So until I stumble on some more time . . .