On the Writing Habit

The first clearly fall morning, temp dipped to a soft and delicious 69*. The pole light still on, and the pasture dimmer than before. I hear a hoot owl! Morning makes the sound pleasant. Some bird trilling loudly from the backyard, and then the ever-present ‘twit-twit’ birds flitting from through the pecan limbs high above. There are pesky gnats and mosquitoes, too. I guess the heat and heavy rains had been too much for them, and now they are back in force. I turned the fan to blow across me, but then had to cover my feet with a pillow. I could use the screened porch, but here is my morning porch, with the cats and courtyard and presence when Little Dude arrives.

Funny about habit. My early mornings are deep habit now, a precious habit of writing here, along with all the other things: tea, reading and prayer, getting breakfast for us, taking Little Dude to school. It would be so helpful to me if I could ingrain the rest of the morning with the habit of writing until noon. Make that time sacred. But repeatedly the needs of others and this home just seem to pull me away. There are things that must be done!

How to say no to them? Well, the place to start is prayer. Dear God, show me how to carve out and make a firm habit the morning hours for writing. Let me see what I need to see. Thank you. And so it is. Amen.

Gotta run and work on it.