Maybe it’s just the optimist in me, but I relish every fresh start I’m given. The first entry in a new journal or the first day of a new month. Finding an excuse is easy; cultivating enthusiasm is hard.

September has seemed longer than usual this year. I’ve been waiting for days to flip the calendar. Now that a new month is here, I feel the faintly anxious drumbeat of opportunity. There’s a magazine to finalize, essays to write, books to read and closets to clean. But right now, there is just the first day of a new month and a blank page before me.