It’s 20 minutes until 9, Wednesday morning, and the house is quiet except for the persistent hum of the central air freezing my limbs and desktop computer behind me, and the revving of the refrigerator that sounds as if preparing to rip its power cord from the wall and race away. The house is still, full of the sounds of company and family slumbering after a late night, er, early morning, playing boisterous word games. But through the stillness, one child tosses and exhales heavily, anxious to wake another to gain his freedom from the restraint he finds between the comforter spread on the floor and the blanket covering his body, the weight of slumber that keeps adults and children alike exploring their no-longer nocturnal dreams.
Today is Independence Day. For me, that means freedom from my own restrictiveness,the fear, lack of motivation, avoidance of reflectiveness, procrastination, that keeps me from pursuing my lifelong dream of writing. Yes, I earn my living at a position many long for, as editor of a weekly newspaper, a paid writer, engrossed in the business of historic documentation for this small community. But I long for the unrestrictive, explorative freedom that comes from writing what I want, when I want. Books. Novels. Non-fiction. The ideas have filled many notebooks. The excuses could have filled many more.
But today is Independence Day. Freedom from that which paralyzes me into a life of creative destitute. A day to evaluate and change, not unlike that first glimpse of promise in a new year.
To aid my journey, my faithfully supportive husband, Rodney, found a free journalling program, Journler, that I will use to explore my ideas, my thoughts, my reflections, my rants. Through it, the three major projects I want to create will become finished projects. This will become a place for me to strategize, to explore, to fulfill my writing desires.
I’ve made the same promises to myself often, but this time is different. Yep, I remember telling myself that before. But this time is different.