Fifteen Minutes...

With all the talk of needing to find the time to write, I find myself a hypocrite. For the last year, every class that comes my way there is a moment in the quarter when these words are uttered from my mouth:
  
“You just have to do, it. Write. Find the time to write. Even if it’s only fifteen minutes a day.”

And then what do I do. I spend the week, bouncing from one job to the next, free time is spent developing lesson plans, searching for full time work, or cooking a rare dinner in the hopes I have enough calories in my system to not fall over while teaching.

What isn’t found in my routine; what I preach every quarter.

Make the time to write.

I’m tired of it. Being a hypocrite is not what I want to be. I want to be that instructor whose students look to and say, “Well, damn… If she can do it, so can I.”

So I have fifteen minutes to write before the thirty-five minute drive to teach class. And in this rare fifteen minutes, I have found time to write. I have also decided I must write at least fifteen minutes a day. I must find the time as I tell my students they must. And so begins a new journey for this blog, journal, thingumabob, or whatever you want to call the random postings I’ve been placing haphazardly on-line the last few years.

It’s time to write every day, all the time, maybe even for contests. I don’t care if what I write is drivel to most, what I want (what I think all writers want) is that rare moment when a sentence works; a moment when it all comes together, even if it’s just one paragraph out of many. I promise to you I will write, and when I say “to you,” I mean me. Who knows where the words will take us. No matter where, it will sure be better than sitting in an office chair crunching numbers. It will be better than the re-run of Criminal Minds you have seen for the hundredth time (no offense to the T.V. show, as you can see I was willing to watch your show repeatedly). Not anymore though.

In fifteen minutes, I could walk on sandy beaches while having my cat cuddle with me in my chair as I type. In fifteen minutes, I could be inventing a machine that doesn’t exist and flying across galaxies. In fifteen minutes, I might be in a fantasy kingdom with strong and vivacious princesses and cunning masculine knights (did you notice how I threw a bit of romance in there). With fifteen minutes, I could change my life.

I have fifteen minutes, do you want to listen.