Well, this past week I’ve started classes– the last classes I will take in my lifetime.  It’s an 18 credit program: three six week classes, one after another, followed by three concurrent classes lasting five weeks.  So, a total of 23 weeks.  During that time, I’ll be doing a lot of writing, but most of it will be for research papers and the like.

Even though my personal writing time will be much more limited, I’m going to try and keep up. I’m very close to finishing my next novel draft.  I won’t tell you which one it is yet, but I feel like I can write, revise, edit, edit, edit, and publish within 23 weeks, even given the my small amount of free time.

I find myself thinking more and more about my retirement from teaching.  This isn’t because I’m no longer gratified with what I do.  I am.  But I’m more and more worn out by it.  I’ve still got at least five years to go.  I consider 26 years of teaching quite an accomplishment, since most teachers I’ve known don’t last 10 years.  When I get there, I’ll be satisfied.

But I’m really looking forward to making my writing a vocation instead of an avocation.  I want to get up, have a cup of tea.  Write until I’m hungry, have brunch, and go back to writing.  I’ll finish by early afternoon (keeping close to my school schedule).  Then I’ll enjoy my day and won’t spend it thinking about what crisis will await me tomorrow.