Yesterday I didn't write. With the exception of a poorly composed sentence that I completely abandoned for three back-to-back episodes of Parks & Recreation. Followed by taking a much needed nap.
Last week a business trip kick started a series of nights plagued with insomnia. Then, on the 8th I exorcised Rachel James (MC of The Caged Bird) from my system. While only managing two miles of physical exercise all week. Followed by eating two brownies after dinner last night.
Since then? Yeah, I've written nothing. I couldn't even come up with 140 witty characters to tweet about. So I spent some time finding witty characters to follow on Twitter. I re-tweeted and favorite their wit. It’s a good thing Twitter ensures instant credit given to original tweeters or I’d have quickly been slapped with plagiarism charges. Yikes.
It’s not like I’m lacking things to write about. No. I have a list. I have an author interview for Wendy Orr to put together. My wall-sized whiteboard has been wiped clean and is waiting for the research plan and multi-colored outline for my next novel: A Boy & His Bakery (the working title while I wait for just the right title to present itself). The Caged Bird needs editing. The personal essay I wrote needs revised. A blog about who we are is simmering in my cerebral cortex. I’m pondering what kind of short something-s I could possibly write about for 365 days in a row.
I’m also pondering: why I didn't buy a pencil sharpener when I bought this package of No. 2 pencils made out of recycled newspaper during my last trip to Barnes & Noble? (I’m using one of those pencils to write out this blog entry on paper in the early morning hours before work.) And how I’m going to make it through work today on yet another night of poor sleep. What others will think of my new paisley dress. If the shoes I’m wearing complement or hinder the look of the dress. Why anxiety had to ride in on the coat tail of sleeplessness. I have enough to worry about when I’m this tired. Will the wind ever stop blowing? And about how much I dislike Daylight Savings Time and the power mankind has over the clock.
See, it’s not as if the muse has left me. I believe even motivation is still here. I think my body is just refusing to bridge the gap between where I’m sitting and the desk chair in my writing studio long enough to reign in these wandering thoughts to get something –anything!- down on paper because my brain just won’t shut up long enough to let the body get a full night’s sleep. Followed by another and another and another. So that I can just function like a writer. Or even a human
Since I wrote this blog out this morning, the following have been accomplished: I brought home a pencil sharpener for my lovely No. 2 pencils. I managed another day at work w/out caffeine. I received no comments about the blue paisley dress (but who cares, I LOVE it!), so I assume the shoes worked just fine or were so hideous no one dared to fake a lie about how great I looked. The wind has not yet stopped blowing, though is predicted to slow down to a mere 10 mph by tomorrow. And I still dislike Daylight Savings Time because now that it’s daylight until after 9 pm, I may never get to sleep.
Me in my paisley dress writing out my #MondayBlog