The Years, Months, Days and Hours

Another birthday has come and gone.  This year’s birthday was very low-key.  There were even times throughout the day that I forgot it was my birthday.  In years past I would take the entire week off and even take a special trip to celebrate my day.  This year … nothing.  I went to work and said nothing.  I went to my second job as a fitness instructor and introduced a special “birthday workout” for the class which was fun.  I received many birthday wishes via social media, phone calls and text messages.  My family took me to dinner.  Overall it was nice.  However, I’m going to start planning now for next year because this is the last of the low-key birthdays.  Each year I’m here is a celebration.

I was asked what my theme for the upcoming year will be.  I didn’t have an answer.  Which got me to thinking. What is my theme?  Where am I headed?  What am I doing? 

I needed some time to get back into the swing after I rejoined the corporate world.  I’ve been back for eight months and I can confidently say that I am swinging just fine.  Both my children are settled into their own homes, careers and lives, so I have no real obligation there.  I even have a steady boyfriend – who I feel confident calling a “boyfriend”.  I’m even doing some remodeling at the house, which I hate by the way.  I’m sure I’ll love the finished product but the process is a pain in the neck. 

My point is this:  My life is pretty much on auto-pilot right now and while it is a comfortable feeling to not have to worry about anything (i.e. money, kids, love life) I don’t want to make the mistake of getting too comfortable.  I need to be working toward something.  But what?

Thirteen years ago, I published a novel.  Since then I’ve put out other works of non-fiction and I semi-regularly publish posts on this blog.  The idea of writing always comes back to me.  It actually never leaves it just sort of lingers in the back of my mind.  I am a writer and I should be writing.  Writing Raymond’s Daughters was a labor of love.  It took a lot of time to write, edit, and finally publish.  I spent an entire year trying to get the book published through traditional publishing venues and was unsuccessful (I still have those rejection letters) before I finally decided to self-publish. 

I want to write another novel.

I used to say that I believed that I only had one book in me.  I believe now that I was just being lazy and impatient.  Writing is hard.  I remember writing Raymond’s Daughters and it didn’t seem hard at the time because the story was so important to me.  The words left my mind and hit the page at a rapid, consistent rate.  It was almost effortless.  It was almost as if I had to tell this story.  I wrote the book while I was going through a divorce so the process was therapeutic.  I’m not going through anything now.  I don’t feel driven by anything except my own desire to write.  That should be enough.  Writers write after all. 

I’m going to tackle this differently.  Instead of diving right in with my ideas for a novel I think I will start by just consistently writing.  Making it a habit.  As I recall, that’s how Raymond’s Daughters came into existence.  I was consistently writing on another blog and a dear friend said, “I can see you writing a book”.  And I did.

Time to go back to the beginning.