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I left my office last night with the moon riding high and bright through one of the skylights. The moon was bright as a full moon, though she was only three-quarters done. I woke this morning in the dark. If there were stars I couldn’t see them. It was just black. I cuddled close to the warmth of my husband, Jon, for a few more minutes, but my mind was alive with the writing. He wrapped himself around me and I forced myself to be present in the warm nest of our bed, our intermingled limbs, the sensuousness of his body pressed against me, the feel of his breath against my skin. I made myself be present, dragged myself out of my head and the words in it long enough to honor that moment, such a wonderful way to wake up. Sometimes, if I’m not careful, I will get so caught up in my work that I miss how amazing the rest of my life is, and these last two years, but especially the last year I’ve really tried to enjoy and be aware of the moments, the present joys, rather than rushing from deadline to deadline, goal to goal. Sometimes the writing engulfs the world and it needs to for me to be able to write, but I’m working equally as hard to be in the rest of my life. It’s a great life and I’ve worked really hard for it, not just the material things, but the emotional things. People always assume that if a couple is happy it was effortless, that happily-ever-after thing, but real love isn’t that. Real love is that Jon and I made a deal that he’d get up with me, so that I could get to my desk ASAP. So he could make sure we all got breakfast. Without this extra bit of planning some mornings he and I forget breakfast and then there’s that sugar crash later. Not good. I eat at my desk, and yes I know people say that’s bad for various reasons, I do it because even breakfast with my family derails me from the book now. I talk as little as possible to anyone, because everything distracts and takes me out of the mindset I need for this work, this calling, this thing I’ve been compelled to do since I was about twelve.

Today it wasn’t a problem not to talk to anyone, because the house was dark, no one up, but Jon and myself. I was in my office running water into my tea kettle with no lights turned on yet. I know my office in the dark. But there was this red glow against the drawn shade of the window, what was that? Why was it red? I opened the shade and, you guessed it – dawn. It was a crimson glow against the horizon, a bloody neon slash above the tree tops in the eastern sky. When I say goodnight to the moon high enough to see it through my skylights, and good morning to the red blush of dawn, I’m in the zone. But I also remembered to enjoy that first warm, cuddling wakeup in the nesting dark of my husband’s arms. I’m enjoying my office and the little votive candle I have burning on my desk. It’s two anthropomorphic ants having a picnic. It was part of the summer collection from Yankee Candle a few years ago. Why do I have it on my desk? To remind myself that when it’s lit, I’m working, but that I’m also supposed to be having fun while I do it. So worker ants, having a picnic – work ethic and whimsy. It helps me remember that I’m supposed to be doing both. And no, before anyone asks, I haven’t always had the ant votive. It was something I found a couple of years ago to help me remember to work hard, but remember to take some time out of the work to enjoy myself. Some mornings writing a blog, or something unrelated to the book for just a few paragraphs helps clear the morning garbage out of my head, and let’s me get to the scene in my head. I can see it, now I have to find the words so that, eventually, you can all see it.