As I sit here typing with you, the hubby is still sleeping. It’s still dark. The computer screen is giving off this odd glow that kind of illuminates the keyboard, not enough to let me see letters. So, you know, I’m basically thanking my old typewriting teacher for forcing me to learn how to type on home keys. Let’s hope I don’t need an asterisk anytime soon.
The kids are still sleeping, which means it’s quiet in here too.
But it’s the good kind of quiet. Not like when they’ve been home from school for an hour and suddenly it gets quiet. Those are the times when you come around the corner and they’re writing on the wall with marker, or squirting powder all over creation to pretend they live in the Frozen movie.
No, this is the peaceful morning quiet. Before the hustle and bustle of life.
This is the time when I write best. I can work on this blog (hello World), I can work on my story (OMG the newest one is first-draft done), or I can just catch up on Twitter (okay that one takes like 10 seconds, it’s good for a day when I’m running a little behind schedule). Either way this is my time.
Today as I sit here that thought enters my mind, the pesky one. The one like a small fly buzzing around in your brain that you can’t swat away. Go to work or write?
I could call in sick today and probably blow through a ton of editing. I bet I could even choose my next raw idea and start outlining another novel. Think of all the writing I could get done.
But I’m a teacher. Those kids, they need me. Seriously, have you seen a group of kids with or after a sub? It’s not pretty. Plus no one is paying me to write. People are paying me to teach. I need to get my butt out of this chair and go to work. I need to put on my adult shoes and adult today.
Work wins.
But one day, after all this chugging along, someone will pay me to write and I will love that job like I’ve never loved a job before (and that’s saying something because I really do love teaching).
On that day, writing will win.
That idea is the fuel to fire up my morning. What’s yours?
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