I love September. Perhaps because I’ve been a student and a teacher most of my life, the year seems to me to begin in September rather than January. I got married on September 1st, 27 years ago. Of course there’s the bliss of new school supplies. In truth, I get a little antsy at the thought of going back to school–I always think I’ll get more done in the summer than I do–of getting back into the routine of teaching, and of my daughters’ homework. But I’m elated, too. With the change of routine, comes a promise of change, of a better routine, of the chance of getting more work done.
So my husband is home, cooking us meals and bossing us around, not the slightest bit aware of how well we did without both while he was gone. (We missed him, not the cook or the boss.) After dinner last night I decided that the best thing for me to do was to come out to my potting shed (my, ahem, Writing Cabin) and write all evening. I typed in changes to the novel through page 40. Today my goal is to push through another 10 or 12 pages and then print it all out and read it. And then do more.
I want to finish this rewrite so I can write a scathing novel about marriage. It makes me happy to think of it.
As St. Teresa of Avila said, “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.”