So far so good. Last night's limitations got me to bed earlier than has become the norm, and with a greater sense of satisfaction than I have had in quite some time. I had always heard that any writer serious about his craft should write no less than 1000 words per day--now, accomplishing the practice of it encouraging in that I am finding a discipline and determination that I never knew existed. I honestly do not know if I have been this determined about anything as I was when I first knew Christ, or when I peaked out in my running career.
Which is, of course, at once encouraging and discouraging. How many years have I loafed through my various pursuits, seeking the easiest way to impress others, rather than the best way to treat myself and my gifts?
But regret and melancholy do not do me any good. We are now in the IS, and it is enough to know that I continue to plod forward, taking strides, and believe in the best that lies in me.
Tomorrow we will be workshopping my first 5000 words in class. I am sure to be at once entranced and enraged at the comments of my peers. I suffer from an obstinate belief that I know more than anyone else and will come to greater things through sheer intelligence and determination. I may be wrong, but I do believe that given enough determination I will be right. Of course I do appreciate insight, any insight, but I am the fastest I know to defend and dismiss as myopic rather than accept my own blindnesses. Perhaps it is the ownership I am not feeling, the pride, the sense of doing and creating. This is my story, Sammy is my character, his life is, in many ways, my life but more--my life extrapolated, distorted, onto frame of different dimensions. Same yet totally different, but still mine nonetheless.
And I will learn to live by my words, which I should now go commit to paper.
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