It’s clear to me, that I have to wake at a ridiculous hour

if I want to be where I NEED to be.  If I don’t wake early tomorrow morning and grade, I won’t be able to run, and surely not able to write.  Left my coffee tumbler at work, not a shock after the day we had, getting pummeled by wine club members swarming and hearding feverishly into the Room for their shipments.  All were civil, but it was an onslaught.  Again reflecting upon and in Time, how much of it grading papers takes from me, from running and writing.  Ten years, over ten, being an adjunct, caught in this grading of papers…  Then I think, how much time have I lost to grading?

Have to write an email after this paragraph, do a couple other things, then soon get to bed.  The last two days of tasting room life catch the writer and he fades but not before getting something done, taking at least a couple steps closer to the Road.  Part of me wants another glass of the ’12 AV Cab, while the other says, “NO!  Discipline!  Act like a writer!” So, no Cab.  Have the coffee machine brewing as I speak, can taste the decaf—  Mind switches again, and all this clutter on the writer’s desk distracts him, yes, but challenges as well.  A challenge to stay focused, to go forward in the story.

This morning driving to Geyserville, I was battered by rain that actually brought my speed down to 35 miles per hour.  On 101, mind you.  Now, outside, nothing.  I miss the rain but don’t at the same time.  Only want it to rain when it’s convenient for me.  That’s maturity, huh?  Maybe I should have that last glass—  No.  Go with the decaf.  Already thinking about the morning coffee, me waking when my alarm goes off at 4AM.  Grading for two hours, then switching to something more creative, something for me, that will carry my story to where it needs to be.  NaNoWriMo, next month.  Last year, the month before my daughter was born, I did hit 50,000+ words.  And where did those words go… to die somewhere here int he laptop, on the blog.  See?  I hate that.  MY moments deserve more.  The pages need be bound.  The books need to be sold.  So change, change…  CHANGE.  I will.  Traveling the country and world speaking about writing and what it does for you, even if you don’t have those best-seller hallucinations.

It is more than clear, so much more than simply clear, that time is thin, thinning, scarce for the writer.  Wake earlier, the first solvent.  After that, just put everything into books.  Sell the books.  Build the business.. stop dreaming and only DO.  Okay, done.  Oh it’s that simple?  Hey, I know it’s not.  But I’m going to act like it is, and make it look like it is.  I’ll so soon be where the writer need be.