A Time

Recently I’ve just wanted to write. Write, edited, blog, design. Work on my books, work on my technique, work on my character voice, work on my word count. Develop my characters, strengthen my plot, tighten my writing. 

I want to sit down for hours upon hours, staring at my computer screen and not have to get up to continue on with the rest of life. I want to get lost in my work, completely unconscious of the rest of the world still spinning by. I want to go on long walks where my fingers can hardly keep up as I write down the dozens of ideas that are pouring into my brain. 

I want to forget that time hasn’t really stopped and dive into my character’s heads until if people would see me they’d laugh at the jumble of emotions and expressions on my face. I want to guzzle down the gallon of water I keep next to my chair and keep my Keurig humming as I use decaf coffee as an excuse to drink more creamer. 

I want to read other blogs about writing and think “Oh yes! I was dealing with that issue today!” I want to email my editor and give him an update on my writing life. I want to talk with my graphic designer and get moving on the cover to my new book. I want to begin planning the book launch for the Action Kids book. 


At the same time, I want to live. 

When life hands me a list of things I need to do, I want to work on them without fretting about what I’m not getting done with writing. I want to cherish the moments I have with my sweet little nieces and nephews. I want to embrace deep talks with my cousins. I want to gladly help out around my house and make it a point to lighten the load for my crazy-busy family. I want to delight in accomplishing my work at my non-writing-related job. I want to volunteer at church and be totally there when I’m supposed to be. I want to enjoy this season of life. I want to dive deep and feel the world. 

I want to be able to laugh at how life changes. I want to be amused by how a month ago I was worrying that I wouldn’t want to write, and now I’m working on not worrying because I want to write so badly. I want to celebrate small victories and hold dreams close to my heart, then break them open to share with the world. 

I want to live each moment of each day just the way I was meant to live it. 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; 
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

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