The rhythm of discipline is producing the fruit of patience and tenacity. I earned every word I put together today, every paragraph and thought. I spent three hours on one essay, and was not discouraged or frustrated – I was pressing in to make it beautiful. I was creating, letting the inspiration flow through me, rather than trying to squeeze it out of a wet sock.
And in my mind I have turned the corner from thinking my three hours a week is a respite from the Everyday, sipping my wine as I tinker on my laptop. These days I feel the weight and seriousness of commitment, the satisfaction and reward of hard work, the challenge of stepping beyond the shitty first draft until I get it right.
I am maturing in my identity as a writer, and I am gaining momentum in the process.