This is me writing a post to get myself writing. That’s it. Do you need to be witness? No. Do I want a little accountability for myself? Absolutely.
It’s 10 a.m. and I have to start getting ready for work at 10:30. I have told myself I will write something – anything – every day, simply to keep my creativity treading water, at the very least.
I feel this is important.
Creativity makes me feel good. It sparks my mind, gets the juices flowing. It inspires me. When I am able to put all things aside, have my cup of coffee, and write…well, it provides hope that I will, someday, make my living as a writer.
But I don’t always feel like creating. Sometimes I fall into the internet trap. Sometimes Facebook turns me into a zombie and I just stare and scroll, stare and scroll. Once in a while I’ll stop to watch a kitty video, or a laughing baby. “Oh, I’ll write later.” Later comes and I haven’t written a damn thing.
I’m the only one to blame for this. I’m the only one to blame for a lot of things – laundry not getting done, not hitting the gym, bathroom looking like a bomb hit it – but at least I can accept these things.
Gosh, I just realized my attempt at having to write something turned into a self-lecture about why I don’t write as much as I should.
How about this? Here’s a description of my workspace:
My Mac glows. The Canon printer that has been inkless for a solid six months acts more as a space to keep junk mail and unread books than it does a machine used to provide copies of my work. My snowman coffee mug is, at least, quite jovial (definitely a Frosty kind of guy, with a jaunty hat and frighteningly long scarf). Next to it, a short work list I started for work, which reads two things: “putting together a ‘when it’s slow list,'” and “weekly, daily side work.” I remember feeling strongly about this list when I started it, but not so much when I realize this list has been sitting here for a week, unmoved, laid on by my cat over a dozen times, I’m sure. An old pair of headphones are bundled up in front of the printer (I rarely use these, and I’m lost on how long they’ve been sitting there). Lastly, there’s my mouse pad with a portrait of two kittens on it, playing; how fitting that there are kittens on the mouse pad! Yes, I’m a dork, so there.
Okay, that wasn’t so bad. It sucks terribly that I can’t continue because, you know, day job. On a Sunday, no less. Sigh. But it’s okay. I did exactly what I set out to do, and that was to write something.
Granted, this won’t get me into the New Yorker, or even a BuzzFeed article, but at least it’s work. And look, it’s 10:21 a.m., just in the nick of time!