I lost the habit of writing the daily work log because I did some writing on Quarantine Diaries, and I’m also participating in a pilot writing course using Blank Page, organized and published by René, and taught by Ana María González Garza, his grandmother. The course is titled The spiral of consciousness, and while we are just one week into the course, the experience has been surprisingly smooth (but not without hiccups).
On writing I admit lacking diligence on several days, I usually sit to write even if I feel uninspired, work through it, and something interesting may come out, but these days I was going to bed exhausted.
My mother was staying with me for ten days straight, as my sister had to do a strict quarantine, so my mother and I engaged in several home improvement projects that were carried out with considerable effort, and for some reason when the body is in a battered up state, the mind also lags and writing feels like exerting more effort.
I understand the reason why I resist to write when I’m tired is because I’m still attached to “writing well” and “making sense”, I could simply lay down in bed and allow my fingers to type whatever comes out. Indeed, some days walking is a drudge, others it’s a pleasure, but looking back upon the way, one observes beautiful scenery of peaks and valleys.
I sense a willingness to commit to daily writing. But commitment takes away from spontaneity. So I’ll interpret this as a willingness to write every day, again.