Writing on the train is never easy because I often feel that folks around me are looking at the words. Such is the case now. So be it.

It is long past due to get back to writing. Spurred by the death of a friend, I am devoting the year to changes. One of them is health — I committed to myself to lose 20 pounds. As I write this, I am three pounds away from that goal.

Far harder is a commitment to get back to writing. I am too easily distracted by other things, particularly video games, and of course the demands of the job go beyond 9-to-5, and leave me exhausted in the evenings.

But the yearning to write never dissipates. And it bubbles to surface on occasion, particularly during travels. Our week in Los Angeles, for example, and — particularly so — our Labor Day weekend in Vermont.

It is during those trips that I have time to reflect, to break away from the routines, and to focus on the yearning to write.

And it was in the wake of those trips, and that bubbling, that I sat down this past weekend to recommit myself to writing. I did the following things:

• Launched Stickk and committed to 9 hours a week of writing, or working toward my writing.
• Cleaned up my office upstairs so that it is actually usable.
• Added Toggl to my browser so that I am able to keep track of my work.

Already it has paid off. I am writing this now on the train, heading home from work. When I left the office I felt tired, and resigned myself to fucking off on the train ride. Ready forums or playing a game.

Yet here I am — writing! I turned on the laptop, turned on the Toggl timer, and suddenly found myself writing.

Of course the critic is already on. I’m thinking about how bad the prose is, how self-indulgent. How horrible it would be for someone else to read this.

And I’m pulled to turn on my work email. What if I miss something? What if I need to do attend to something urgent?

But I resolve to turn off the critic, to turn away from the doubter, to ignore the workaholic.

And the reason I’m able to is simply this: it feels good to write. It feels good to have words flowing, to be typing. To be creating.

I’m not quite sure where this is going. I really like the idea that I am free to work on whatever I like: a novel (likely the sequel to my earlier novel), or flash fiction, or even to updating my blog with journal entries or flash fiction. Or to work on the blog itself, or the website. Or, even cartooning.

I will set further parameters. I will try to work offline, so that I am not tempted to check work email. I will try to work in a private blog, so I don’t worry about others reading personal entries like this.

Regardless of how I fine tune this, one thing is clear. The commitment is the key to continuing. I would not be writing right now if I had not made that commitment, much as I would not be working out on many mornings if I had not made the commitment to lose weight and get myself back in shape.

So — here is a blog entry. It is a start. It doesn’t matter that is not very interesting, or that no one will read it. All that matters is that I wrote, and will continue to write.

I’m getting back.