I am a writer. That is my job.

Ah, what an oversimplified statement, that. I love writing, it’s what I do for a living (at least that’s what LinkedIn says). So why is it everything else often comes first? I realized it feels an awful lot like “running late” — for those of us who are time-challenged, we are familiar with the nonsensical but unrelenting argument: “I’ll make it up on the road” (I’m sure this post will be a delight for traffic cops to read) when we jump behind the driver’s seat ten minutes later than we’d hoped [then there's: "oh, great. I need to stop to get gas, too"].

That’s how I feel about writing sometimes. (Few things should come before my writing time. Examples:

God.
My husband.
2 1/2. My dog. 2 3/4 The rest of my family [who know Daisy and know why she has a slight advantage in my list of priorities].)

I feel like when other stuff besides the list provided above comes between me and my writing that “I’ll [just] make it up on the road.” Translation: That time will magically appear out of nowhere…precious, protected, quiet time will bubble like liquid gold out of a little crack in the real world and I and my fully charged and non-besmudged-screen MacBook Pro will flounce gracefully (inspired ideas and all) into a secret  “Now I Am Writing” dimension and be literarily [I just invented a word. yay, me] productive.

When I schedule my writing day, this is almost always the outfit I wear.

Just to be clear, this has never happened.

I have to take a pickaxe to my day and bust out a ragged niche for writing time. And it’s not because anyone else thinks this isn’t a legit use of my time…it’s because I need to be clear that I am a writer. That is my job.

So, this post is really a note to self…but if you need a reminder that what you are called to do is legit, feel free to grab a pickaxe [and put on your green leggings] and hack away!