This is in response to a prompt from DIYMFA Bookclub: Has there ever been a moment when writing felt completely incompatible with your real life–when it felt like there was just no way you could make the two exist together? Tell a story about a time when you had to honor your reality.
Sometimes I get so tired and I am too weak to even write.
Sometimes when I am prompted to write something I find it hard to do so.
Sometimes when I’m done writing something, I can’t imagine writing anything else.
Sometimes all I want to do is turn on the television, watch someone else’s “reality” and blink.
When I’m counting down the minutes until I have enough words on the page.
When I’m waiting for the big idea to come.
When I’m trying to stay focused.
When I’m trying to remember what I’m supposed to be writing about.
When I want to do something with my mind shut off.
When I’m thinking about what kind of treats they have behind the counter.
When my coffee is cold, but not on purpose.
When I’m listening to the conversation behind me.
When I remember that I started this list with Sometimes.
When I hear someone eating potato chips and crumpling the bag between every bite.
When I flash them a look and then feel bad.
These are the times when it seems that I will never write another word. These are the times that I can’t believe I’ve ever written one.
I remember all the little scraps of paper that are tucked in my notebook, in my wallet, in my jewelry box, on my desk, and in my nightstand drawer.
Little flashes of inspiration. Times when the real world was black.
There will be more. But my reality is crackling now.