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pinkie-promises

so, it’s been more a week and a half since i wrote anything vaguely creative, but last night i jumped back on the wagon, solely due to a friend who asked after the work i’d been doing. i’d previously been telling him how important it’s been for me to write for even a mere five minutes, and how it’s kept me going for the past several years.

well, when he asked yesterday, i was forced to admit i’d failed in that practice recently. he understood the pressures of office work and house re-siding work, etc., but it galled me to say that i couldn’t scrape together even five bleeding minutes to put pencil to paper. later that day, i made a pinkie-promise (which was new to me but is, i think, the result of his having children and me not) to do my five minutes that night.

but it almost happened again. mary was asleep, i had turned off the downstairs lights and computer, locked the doors, brushed my teeth, and was headed for bed when i realized i still had not written. yes, i was tired; yes, it was late (for me); yes, i had a thousand un-creative things spinning in my feeble brain; no, i didn’t have any clear ideas. fortunately, i remembered the promise and so what? wasn’t that the point? to do it anyway?

so i trumped back downstairs and did it anyway. and the ‘it’ in this case, went from five minutes to a half hour, and looks like the first several paragraphs of Book 2. i think i’m back on track.

to my friend, i give thanks.

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