When last March ended, I vowed that I would continue to write each Tuesday, to continue my dedication to personal, published writing that the Two Writing Teachers website has shepherded for the last many years; in fact this March will mark the fifteenth year. But, as I was reminded this morning, my resolve dissolved as the trail of Tuesdays lengthened. I was struggling under the weight of a virtual-teaching year that would bring me to tears—teaching murdered sleep.
This year I have no such excuse, only teaching sporadically as a substitute, but my impetus to write is equally spotty. Then I read this post from the Moving Writers community and realize that March will be upon us before I know it, and I need to recommit. So I am.
My morning notebook time usually revolves around the quotidian daily doings that fill the page but won’t make anyone do anything but yawn. I need to find the magic in the moments again, to work at reclaiming that. I do notice that I get excited about writing about my reading, something substantial while not particularly creative, but here’s what else is true and that I’ve noticed over time. When the expectation is there, the words come.
So expectation is in place, and magical moments are all around me: I will make writing sacred—and place it center-stage—this March.