Yesterday, while I was propping my badly sprained and bruised ankle, (any sympathy yet?), I looked over my works-in-progress calendar. Nice, I thought, nine pieces on the schedule, all due before June. As I added notations to the work-ups, I thought about the margins in my writing life. The time I don’t schedule anything that would overlap an already scheduled appointment, or in this case, due dates.
As vague as it sounds, I leave enough padding around events each day, week, etc. so that life can happen and I don’t have a hissy fit when those unplanned trials occur. That’s one way I keep my sanity in motion and my fingers on the keyboard. Another way I do that sanity thing is with lists, which I’ve hinted at in previous writings.
Margins, lists, and calendars have all kept me ticking along. My margins have been tight, much to my disappointment, but I still have a handle on my sanity. However, I am still on my reading list from, ah hem, February, and will be reading those I haven’t gotten to yet during the rest of March. Something about the eyes being bigger than the belly, or the clock having more hands than me, or (blah, blah, blah…).
While the margins on my life are flexible, my body is not. I am neither as young or as lithe as once was, I’m working on that. And it is true, if you don’t use it, you will lose it. Lesson learned; I move on from here, using all of my muscles, flexing my writing instruments, stretching my mind, and staying within my margins.