Summer is a busy time, and exceptionally so in a place where the summer (whatever that is defined as now) is so drastically more pleasant and inviting than the winter. Traveling, social events, family fun time, and long days of sunshine, not to mention family (not so fun) time, and professional life that is always part of a daily calendar. It is, indeed, hard to resist dog walks at dusk, a glass of wine on the porch, or just generally enjoying what Summer brings, especially in a city like Chicago.

The difference this summer, for me as I embrace my journey back into writing, is that even on the packed days, even on the late nights in the early mornings, even when taking two kids to college and fourteen trips to Walmart in 36 hours, writing wise I have been able to keep at least a little something going. I’m touching up an essay here, I’m thumb-typing thoughts in my notes app there, scribbling ideas in the margins of a page where I’m taking notes for something at work, little pops of thought in my diary/journal. I’ll even text myself.

This is not news to the writing community, as if the writing community is reading this, nor is it news to anyone else that is looking to become dedicated to a practice. Practice meaning the following any type of rule or plan or process. Consistency is the key. There’s no such thing as a day off. Why? Because one day off can lead to two, which can lead to a week which can lead to sniping of progress that has been made over the course of weeks, months, or years of trying to attain a goal that is important to you.

So, for me even in this summer filled to the brim with a house construction project (more on that later), some family issues (everyone is ok), and all the other things that life gives to you, and the enticing nuggets summer offers, this summer I refused to let summer take from me. I put away the excuse to let my writing practice slide just because someone invited us to the beach, or it was such nice evening that alfresco dinner was only thing to do. So, I write this not to preach a lesson or a lecture, but as a way of expressing (a) how hard it is to be dedicated to a practice and (b) that I am proud of myself that I am going on this journey no matter how long it takes, how far it goes, whether it succeeds or fails in my eyes or anyone else’s. I am sticking it out. Progress is stealing those moments, three hours or three minutes, to continue to do what I love and have loved for years: putting pen on paper, keyboard strokes on screens, dictations into phones, each and every day, no matter how small how seemingly insignificant or how grand.

I do hope that the eleven people that may read this that are actual human beings and not bots (can bots read, or just DM you?) can take something from these thoughts. Far from innovative, these musings, I feel it just might be easier to relate to a non-famous, non-New York Times best-selling author, non-faculty member at an MFA program, non-editor and chief of an esteemed literary magazine, but just another person who loves to write, and who is experiencing the positive effects of incrementalism, one inch at a time.