Clean air has returned to Seattle, and the coffee shops in Belltown are full. It’s only 61 degrees outside (Farenheit), yet the street corners are occupied by twenty-somethings in t-shirts, eager to feel marine air skimming along their skin.
Summer is making the sweet slow turn toward fall. That’s my favorite time of year, not only because it’s beautiful, but for the renewed sense of productivity that comes with overcast days and enough drizzle to drive most of the tourists away. We can shop at Pike Place Market again after the cruise ships have returned to warmer water. At last, the city will be ours again.
Today is a writing day, and the luminous grey skies are a comfort. There’s a sensation of release in the air today, and I find myself wanting to release myself from the constraints of a too-tight schedule, too-demanding goals, and too-demanding expectations about my own success.
Instead of feeling energized by my plans, lately they’ve begun to chafe. I need to find a balance between having goals and enjoying my writing-time. Because when I over-plan, I suck all the joy from the work. Yet when I under-plan, nothing really gets done. So where’s my sweet spot?
I’m thinking about it. But for right this now, I’ve got two slow chapters to combine into a single fast one. About 5,000 words to edit to meet my deadline. I don’t mind the deadline, only the way I feel when I get too tangled up in numbers and expectations.
It seems to me that good writing arises from surrender, not control. So let me take a deep breath of our (clean!) Seattle air, and surrender now to those words yet unwritten.