I was painting my toenails this morning and thinking how exasperating it is that I can find time to write something every day, yet I can’t manage to do something as simple and quick as paint my toenails more than like twice a month.

My priorities are all fucked up, I told myself. Today’s the day. I’m gonna get to work, make a hair appointment (two months since my last cut and probably four since I last dyed it…it’s looking a wee bit shaggy) and even make a nail appointment. Ooh, I felt really proud of myself for the nail appointment idea. I haven’t had a manicure since…um…

Junior high school.

Really? That long? Well, yeah. I file and paint my fingernails about as often as my toenails, with even shoddier results. Honestly, I have no idea how anybody who’s ever looked at me can take me seriously.

And yet I am. I am dead serious. (See? There was a point to all this.) I make time for the things I care about, the things that are important to me. Special quality time with my daughter. Good, healthy meals for my family. Reading books about things that I believe are important for me to know. And writing.

There’s a difference, I’ve found, between wanting to be a writer and wanting to write. I write. It’s like I was saying to a friend the other day: if you write, you don’t wait for inspiration to hit, then struggle for the phrases, the forms, the narrative voices. It’s like any art in that you need to practice. If you’re an artist, you sketch or sculpt every day. A pianist practices every day. Those who wish to write, write every day, even if what they write has no ending, no plot, or is just a series of phrases. Then, when the inspiration does hit — and believe me, it does — you don’t have to go scrounging for the right words and agonizing over how to portray your idea. Your toolbox is open. It’s all right there at your fingertips.

What am I going to do today? I’ll tell you. In a couple of minuites, I’m going into the bathroom to finish getting ready for work. I’m going to get to work, completely forget everything I resolved to do today, not remember about the hair appointment or the manicure until I get home tonight and read my LJ replies, and then I’m going to smack myself in the forehead for having forgotten, forget again, and not even think about my hair and nails again for another week or two. This is my M.O. I never remember this type of thing.

What I am going to remember to do today is write. It’s not just a habit, it’s a pleasure. Even more, it’s an investment in my chosen art. I’m going to come home tonight, fix dinner, do some stuff around the house, and then I’m going to sit down and write whatever I want.

What are you going to do?

xo, Amy