Every summer around this time, I start to panic. I worry that in just a few weeks, it will all be over, and I won’t have picked enough berries, splashed in enough swimming pools, or paddled enough lakes. I’ll blink twice, and it will be September.
I have a few writing-related activities in the next couple weeks: a visit to the West Vancouver Memorial Library this Thursday, coffee with my virtual friend Alex Van Tol next week, and a first in-person meeting with my agent (squee!) Patricia Ocampo. And these remind me that between berry picking, pool splashing, and lake paddling, there’s one thing I definitely don’t get enough of in the summer: writing time.
Productive writing requires more than an early morning session before the rest of the family wakes, or an hour stolen while the kids denude the back yard. Real writing requires uninterrupted hours and a cup of tea… and those only come at the end of summer.
(But first, I’m going berry picking.)