March 2022 SOLC–Day 3
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
Ruth Ayres offers a weekly prompt for writers on her blog. This morning’s was especially timely for me: Write about a writing habit.
This morning I woke up one minute before my alarm went off. 4:37 am. Why it’s set for that exact time I can’t tell you. Except 4:30 sounds so early, and 4:45 is too late. I can’t remember when I started rising so much earlier, but I can tell you that my mornings fall into a pattern that enriches me.
This morning, like every morning, I stumble out of bed and grab my glasses and robe. Downstairs I turn on the coffee pot, pour my OJ/cranberry juice mixture, and feed the cats. Curious about whether we got any snow last night or not, I turn on the outside lights.
The scene has been transformed overnight, and it’s still snowing heavily. I hadn’t expected more than a dusting. The dried hydrangea blossoms, which should have been trimmed months ago, serve as mounting platforms for snow. The small garden lanterns wear tall top-hats and the birch tree is lined with a glistening white coat. I feel a momentary leap at the beauty and then a quick flutter of hope. Snow day? I don’t think so though. I quickly check the forecast and realize the snowfall should end within an hour or so. Thoughts of an extension to my relaxed morning fade away, and I slip back into my routine. Into my habit.
I sit down at the table where I write and look outside for a few more minutes. Feel gratitude swamp me for this view. For my home. I could linger here for a long while. Content to watch the snow fall past the outdoor lights, accumulate on the path…Content to do nothing but absorb it all…
Still, I haven’t written my SOLC post yet. I know I should probably go straight to the computer. Efficiency and all. But my hands automatically reach for my notebook. That’s my habit. That’s where I begin every morning. Some days it’s journaling, some days it’s story writing, some days it’s poetry, Most days it’s a mixture. But almost every day it happens. Page after page in my notebook. I strive for at least three pages, but honor whatever happens.
That’s my writing habit. An anchor in crazy times. The place where, as Ruth writes, words “wobble and bend” and “stack”. The place where I center myself before the day begins.
My gift to myself.