A peek at my dark side…
BETWEEN SEMESTERS at OSU, the Panera on High Street is empty early morning. Lucky day for me! I have my pick of tables.
I’ve dropped Wally to visit with a fellow CLL-er and come with my laptop to wrestle with a writing challenge. It’s a toughie.
I get myself set up – everything positioned just right on the table. You know what I mean.
In comes a college-age girl, alone, but talking her head off and wearing earphones, apparently carrying on a conversation with someone somewhere. She looks across the restaurant, then chooses the table CLOSEST to me and sits in the chair FACING me, talking virtually nonstop while eating a breakfast sandwich (which is not a pretty sight).
In this moment, I sense I am turning crabby. (This is the dark side I referred to.)
The BIG Question: WHY does it take a full 15 minutes of wondering why in the world she didn’t sit somewhere else before it dawns on me I can move? I mean, really people, sometimes it’s just that easy.
THERE’s A STORY BUSTING to be told, but I’m not exactly sure yet what it is. Maybe it’s what I’m already writing, daily, in 1,000-word installments. Not here of course, And maybe never here. Maybe this isn’t the venue at all. I don’t know yet.
But a number of you have asked where I’ve gone. You’ve caught glimpses of me in the comments section of others’ blogs, and ask, why am I never at home when you come calling? The same post has been hanging on my home page for over a month.
Thank you for noticing and for caring enough to ask. Am I not encircled by the coolest group of friends, scattered all around and yet very near? I am!
I’m here. Watching, waiting, writing. Keeping all my counseling appointments. And mining for gold, a box of Cheezits never too far out of reach. (Tsk, tsk.)
Keep blogging, friends. I’m reading. And thanks for the emails. I read every single one.
In 2012, AFTER FIFTEEN YEARS of writing,
the words stopped,
so I went and got a regular job
and, sure enough,
I no sooner started working
than the writing came back.
It seems to happen to a lot of writers.
“If only I didn’t have anything else to do but write”
is a false god.
* * *
AUTHOR STEPHEN KING tells in his memoir
how, early on, he set up his home office
with an enormous desk
replaced that set-up
with a simple arrangement
tucked into a corner.
“Put your desk in the corner,”
“and every time you sit down there to write,
remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room.”
I read his words
and went right into my office
and pushed the desk back even further. I did!
* * *
If you are walking around saying,
as so many of us have,
“IF ONLY I didn’t have to do this and that.
and could focus just on my writing…,”
you are going down the wrong path.
I sympathize. I do.
I hope you are able
to carve out a pocket of time
to write -
or every other day
or a couple of times a week,
whatever works for you.
But don’t forget to live a life.