(I’m pleased to announce that if you’d rather listen to this post, say on your way to work or during your break, you now can! Just click on the link below. I’ve done all the reading for you.)
I’m sitting down to write for 30 minutes each day. It’s a major comedown from what I was previously clocking, but it’ll have to do in getting the engines warmed up again. The cold, dry crack of misuse is sounding loudly. I have this habit of starting things and not finishing them. It’s a cute thing I do.
So I’m sitting down to write whether or not I have an idea to write about. That’s something I’ve heard writers do. 30 minutes straight. No hollowed out remnants of procrastination– the quick text message, the making of a snack, the brief check of social media and blog comments. I’ve given it a few attempts, some more successful than others; but I’m always sucked back into my let’s go out and look at the flowers ways again. Staying focused is a challenge for me, especially when the world has so many beautiful things in it. But I’m doing it this time. Thirty days of sitting, me and paper, or me and computer, and writing and nothing else, except maybe getting up to make more tea, or pulling a book off the shelf to check a reference.
Of course, I took the liberty of doing day one last night so that you can have something to read about immediately. I know the kind of culture we live in.
As you can imagine, everything calls out to me, including Daisy the cat. I sit in front of the computer and, to my horror, I start writing about my cat. This has gone so quickly down a dark path that I hadn’t the time to gather my flashlight, matches, or anything. I’m a woman writer writing about her cat. I don’t have to tell you that this is an unsavory situation. I’ll be sure to make no mention of a cat in my next piece of writing. Except that this is my next piece of writing, and I’ve been doing it again.
But this is the morning, and with morning brings hope. One of the benefits of writing at night is that the writer gets to wake up in the morning, read what was written the night before, and dive into a nauseated panic. She says to herself, maybe I was just too tired to be writing last night. I had no business. She pours extra sugar into her coffee. She moves to the couch and brings her knees to her chest. Her soul is trying to leave her body; she can feel it.
Either way, there’s something more than a blank page to look to and that should count for something. Right? She begs her soul to stay a little longer, at least until the coffee sinks in and she’s rolled up her sleeves. At least until she’s managed to brush her teeth. Soul agrees. Soul is a writer and would hate to go vagabonding around and find that all the other writers have already been occupied. She’s stuck with this one. Writers are certain that their writer souls would prefer to occupy someone else, someone with a bit more talent. Writer calls her soul a bitch. You’d think that soul would hear, but she’s back to staring out the window thinking up a cool photography project. And she thinks I’m the problem, writer mumbles under her breath.
We are often our own biggest obstacle.
Did you listen to the audio version? Is it something that you’d like more of in the future? Let me know in the comments!
My name is Lyz-Stephanie and I want to inspire you to live a more interesting, fulfilling and beautiful life. Think of me as your well-being and happiness guide. I know that things aren’t always easy. Life doesn’t drop dreams into our laps, but every day we can do something to make our lives happier and richer, make our minds more active and engaged. I’m on the journey. Will you join me?