by sheena heinrichs

I did it. I quit my day job. After years of being too terrified to say “I am a writer” and opting for “I like to write”, I have dedicated the foreseeable future to pretending that I am, in fact, a writer. Fake it til you become it, right?

Last week I said goodbye to my final tutoring student and, even though the sweet little guy was weepy, I felt like doing handsprings. Hardhearted? Perhaps. But after decades of pouring into the education of others, I am carving out time for my own and I’m excited.

However, the actual carving? That is the problem. One does not simply buy a fresh pretty new planner and map out their week of writing. I know because right after I faked a sad goodbye to my pupil, I bought the sweetest planner I have ever seen. I spent the weekend creating a tight schedule and even made a meal plan. Don’t judge me.

But this morning I was quickly reminded that “carving out time” for a creative feels like making lines in wet sand only to have the very next wave begin to wash it away.

I make a line- write from 10 am to 12 pm. The first waves come. Emails to be answered, bills to be paid, IG stories to watch. The line is barely visible.

The planner and scheduling and parceling out of time are somewhat helpful but I am learning that I need something kinder and less rigid. I need to work within the rhythm of my day which is something that provides comfortable boundaries instead of timekeeping tyranny.

Rhythm is the fun cousin to structure and, at the risk of being braggy, I have always been the fun cousin.

So here I begin...again. I will move and flow and shift between the predictable morning coffee and bible reading and the jarring reminder to call the dentist and clean my house. There will be fight to redirect but also grace as I pivot back to the practice that I love. Because I am a writer.