Today was the day I returned, once more, to the writing of my new book(s).
It has rained all day.
I woke up at 5.30am, had breakfast, went to the gym (running outdoors, in the rain, included) and went back home to sit at my desk with the daunting task of grabbing the book by the collarbone. One more time. And not the last.
A famous Portuguese writer once said, in an interview, the best advice she could offer aspiring female writers was to get themselves a rich husband. Humour and sarcasm apart, she had a point. It´s incredibly hard to write a book of this magnitude – 3 or more volumes and my life in Egypt encapsulated within its words – while being a professional dancer, teacher and choreographer who lives exclusively from her work with no finantial, or other, support from exterior sources.
I travel all the time, for work around the world; I teach private online classes every day; I write articles for different publications, take care of the logistics of my work – answering, personally, to students, events´organizers, clients, strangers who follow my work, journalists, you name it – and manage, or try to, live. A bit.
Writing a 3 or 4 volumes´book is not something you do while waiting for a flight at the airport. It requires space, time, silence – interior and exterior -, consistent slices of time where I can lose myself and forget the “real world”. Getting lost in the book is not an option but a requirement; a condition sine qua non for writing it.
I´m not complaining. I´m also not searching for a rich husband (although a lottery ticket that could buy me 6 months of absolute focus on the book would really help – Santa Claus, where are you?).
Scared to dive in deep into the water, once more? Sure. And yet I roll. We roll. Ahead. Inside. Upwards. Life is imperfect, messy, filled with opportunities and limitations. Honestly: we just gotta take the punches, be humble to accept the things we cannot change, and dance along with the walls. Then break them, when the time arrives.