I had a thought today during church. Writers don’t wake up one day and start writing. They wake up every day and start writing. A writer doesn’t become successful when he sells one thousand books. He becomes successful when he writes one thousand days in a row. I want to be a successful writer.

It’s still difficult for me to manage my time so that I can write. If I decided I did not want to produce manuscripts, I could accomplish so much more. I could nap and wash dishes and play with the boys without the guilt of not writing. But when I rest and wash and play, I hear my un-composed manuscripts nagging at me from the back of my brain. “When are you going to spend time with us?” they whine. “Later,” I lie.

I have an appointment with my neurologist on Tuesday. By Wednesday, I hope I’m sleeping better.

A former student wrote a letter to the university president, who forwarded it to all of the deans, including mine, who forwarded it to me. The student wrote that she was adequately prepared for post-college life due to her coursework, and mentioned my classes specifically. She said a friend of hers told her to take my class, saying “It will change your life.”