So it went well yesterday. I read all the pages of the new middle grade and it’s not only pretty good, it’s also not far from being a complete first draft. I dug into the syllabus and powerpoint for my Austin Community College Writing Children’s Literature class and made notes about next steps. Oddly, the class feels like it needs more big picture thinking and heavy lifting than the manuscript but working on both feels symbiotic.
Now it’s Monday. The beginning of the work week. Get busy. Get going. Go.
Instead, I’m thinking about hiking. Driving to the trail head. Slipping the route map to the peak in my pocket. Heading out, step by step. In a way, there is no magic in hiking. It’s one step after the other. To the top. If it’s a good route, there are panoramas along the way, shady places to breathe (or pant), maybe even some cool water. These are the places to stop and revel in the journey and the progress. And then it’s back to the step by step going. Until the end.
Yeah, I’m thinking about hiking.
I’m driving to the trailhead. I know the route.
*This title is a nod to Arthur Levine’s fine picture book about a child waiting patiently for the weekend when he will be with his parents uninterrupted by the work day.