It’s an odd little day, Tuesday. Sandwiched between the rushing lions Monday releases and the I-think-I-can determination of Wednesday, Tuesday is an exhalation. We keep appointments, make plans, cross things off our get-stuff-done list, and in it all there’s a sense of everything being Tuesday-ish.

I’ll spend the morning in the woman cave blasting rock on the fourth draft of the last chapter of my new book. In an interview, M. Scott Peck (author of The Road Less Traveled, and more) said it takes about two years to write a book. I started writing this one a year ago and, based on where I am with it now, another year should do it.

It’s starting to seem like a never-ending Groundhog Day when I arrive at the desk in the morning. I want to finish this draft, but there are still cliffs to chip away at, piles of discarded stones to haul away, and insights to glean. It’s hard work. Good work. Tuesday work.



I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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