Over 2,000 words. There’s the train, and more rain. Need more coffee. Wife said she’d bring me one, thankfully, and how kind of her to do so after her earlier than early workout. Won’t let self stop thinking about teaching, students, different ways to encourage them to creativity and make reading and writing, telling their own stories, theirs. Then I start estimating my life, what I’ve done and what I can still do… that I’m not that young but not that old, either. So… what. What. This morning’s writing is certainly story-shifting in its purposing and poetic posture. Stanford… Harvard…. Wherever. Keep thinking, writing, speaking on Kerouac and Plath, and Sedaris, and whomever I select for required reading. Oh this morning, over two thou’ and still typing, for what, NaNo’? A little I guess, but really for me and more for students, certainly. How they walk in the room with questions and some some self-doubt, confusion, but conversation and the exchange of ideas sorts it all. One student in my 1A class, returning to school after being away years, with such a vigor about his work, and the ideas he offers to his colleagues (what I call fellow-students)… has me looking inward, knowing I can re-focus on school in ways I NEVER have. But have to be measured, I have to plan every move. Writing is the first step, but only the first. I have to wake early like this, every morning. Which means going to bed much, much earlier. Have a plan for every hour.
06:27… wife should be home any minute, and the babies, either one or both could, and should, be up, up… maybe the rain is helping them sleep more hardily. Good for them, both having day off with Mama. Wish I did but no I have to work. Which is good. More than “good”, it’s amazing, frankly. Working at a winery has taught me, well, more than I have time to tell. Wife called and verified which coffee I want. Again, so much thanks to her keeping the writer going and getting the writer out of bed with her alarm. Yes, I do give self some credit, but not much. Most of it is her, with her devotion to this early-early workout group she attends and her constant attention to her students, teaching practice, graduate school. Time… give it time, I tell myself. Be tough on your character but not to excess. Keep writing. Keep working. Be tireless. Checked student journals for the semester, yesterday, and saw that one of them, on one page, in huge drawn-over-and-over letters, wrote ‘TIRELESS’. Made me smile, laugh after they left the room, a bit. Felt like the student was reminding me of what I earlier shared, to not forget, to propel myself and keep going. More than simple ‘practice what you preach’ antagonism, but something like that. So here I am, and will stay, at the keys or writing in Composition Book till I get to my There.