5:32 PM and all’s quiet. How long can this last?

I can’t believe I’m sitting at my computer savoring sweet tranquility, just the sounds of my fingers on the keys. Not even the neighbor’s normally vocal, pint-sized yard guards I affectionately named “The Yappers” are at their posts. My two boys, ages 7 and nearly 3 have both fallen asleep spontaneously, undrugged, unthreatened, lying sweetly in my bed. it’s like I’m in a whole different realm, one where I can think, without an interruptive wale from Jack or Star Wars battle sound effects spewing out of Andrew. It’s so quiet in fact, that I can’t think. My mind is muddled.  need coffee. You see I came to the computer thinking that my muse might meet me here, that with no noise in the house, all the brilliant thoughts and creativity I’ve been holding back for the past few months would come shooting out of my fingertips onto the keys like Van Gogh’s Starry Night taking shape as if it were a color by number. But I see it’s not that easy. Everything that people have been telling me about writing and writing and more writing is true. I can’t sit down at the keyboard once every so often when all is quiet and spit out a masterpiece. I need discipline, determination, dedication, direction, and many other d words just waiting to spring forth from the pages of my dusty thesaurus…..damnit. There’s a good one. 

It’s now 5:42. Wow, ten minutes of writing without stopping. That’s an incredible feat for me. See I’m a closet writer who’d like to call myself a writer and knows that I’d be a great writer, but I never actually produce anything. I used to, but now I just talk about writing as if some invisible force keeps me from it. How I long for it, but the evil demons keep my computer, pen,s pencils, paper and all other writing supplies locked away. The truth is my attitude is an insult to all the writers who wake up and write every single day even on days where they’d rather scrape corns off their toes, they still write. That’s what I need, a good corn scraper.

I have to go clear the Smirnoff bottles off the fridge shelves. My dad’s coming for dinner. More later……..I promise. I’ll even get out the thesaurus.

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