I've been in my little house, writing. My current major assignment is a long project, and those close to me have heard me talk about it a lot. But it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I decided to quit pecking at it and get down to the business of getting it done.
So I assigned myself writing boot camp. No more beach, no more putting it off to watch another episode of Mad Men online (but understand that's just because I've seen every episode now). I would really hunker down for a couple weeks until I could get a chunk completed and momentum going. I would go to my part-time job, come home and write, and get up and write, and then go to work. On the weekends I might see people if I could.
I am now here to say that writing is not the most important thing in my life. It is part of my life, yes, and will continue to be. But I am leaving camp. I can't shut my life off from, well, my life. I did finally get down to business, so I know this radical move was needed, but I couldn't completely go into the monastery of work. It's just not worth that kind of long-term worship.
I missed people. I don't really write about people in the project, and that is always my favorite part. And I can't put people on hold, including myself. And when I look back on the last few weeks, for the most part I didn't. And I am proud of that, of not even realizing that my internal priorities will always trump external assignments.
So here I am, still writing, 1.5 months from the big deadline, but I am here to say I am officially back from camp. I needed it, but now, let's just be sensible and write. And then go to the movies, k?
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