Well, I didn't do it.
I actually slept an extra hour yesterday, right through my 5am workout. But that's because I was just getting home from three days in the North Carolina mountains, and I was tired. I went with three other writers for the express purpose of three day's worth of intensive writing.
I went out of my (comfortable) way. I left my family in the middle of the worst case of writer's block I've ever had (so far) to write for three days. I took vacation days from work to do it.
I wrote 555 words.
Three days of quiet, mountain beauty, and writer camaraderie at meal time with no kids, laundry, telemarketers or TV. Shoot, there was no internet! And I produced only 555 words and the audacity to call myself a writer.
: : :
I'm a daughter to a dad that wasn't a big part of my life between the ages of 11 and 41. Birth to 11 and the last few years were amazing, though. And all that in between stuff -- the absence and silence and heartbreak-- was all practice. I was his daughter and he was my dad every day of the falling apart in between.
It isn't always pretty. Sometimes it's scary, unsure, and full of mistakes and apologies. It's practice, not perfection nor performance.
Practice is where we find grace:
~ grace to fail and grace to succeed.
~ grace to try and grace to quit.
~ grace to start over or just keep going until you get somewhere better.
Like beyond writer's block.
So I might only have 555 words to show for those three days, but I'll take them.
And those thirty years of yuck? They were all practice for what was to come, even before I knew they were leading to a better place. Because that's what practice does; it makes us better.
Practice can make one proud. Of a mere 555 words or to be a father's daughter.
Practice, no matter what the expectation or how it actually turns out, is a beautiful thing.
What have you been practicing lately?
Day 4: Practice
Mountain photos courtesy of Janey. Used with permission.