I’m home. There are so many good things about that statement, and it’s too easy to take for granted. Even with Facetime, and seeing my husband’s smile remotely, there’s something in Fitzgerald’s line that makes being here to witness those smiles in person … more worth living. In fact, my husband sent me the link to a profound article about sacred relationships this week that reflected yet another way he makes my days worth living.
I love my job and the opportunity it’s giving us to get out of the repetition of Wisconsin’s wintry mess and economic morass. I’m also beyond grateful at my company’s flexibility with its work from home policy, that it recognizes how much better I work with my partner in the picture. To say nothing of my girleez.
All that blathering to say… I’m still too discombobulated about *everything* to have made one small step of progress on fiction.
I’m not even sure how long I should give myself to settle in to some kind of writing productivity in this transition. And that makes me twitchy. Today, my latest class began, and I started working on my first assignment, so those will continue to give me at least some small framework for my weeks, but I worry about how long it’s been since I last looked at any of my manuscripts with any kind of serious intention to continue them. I want all the change to be done so we’re happily together again full-time, and I don’t feel quite so constrained by a suitcase and airline schedule, but I also know all the logistical details that tell me even the most optimistic wishing won’t make that desire a reality without a realistic timeline.
I hope there’s someone out there who can give me some hope for productivity as the months stack up, or some tips on how to build some structure when everything is up in the air. For now, I’ll try one more time for a 1K-word week, admitting I failed even that last week. Meantime, check out how my fellow ROW80ers are handling their goals.