Saturday, February 11, 2012

I Can't Write

I can't write today. There is too much to do. Laundry needs folded, dishes need washed, cats need fed, the house needs cleaned. The snow won't shovel itself. The cats won't clean their litter box when they are done. The fridge won't fill itself with groceries. I'm much too busy to write.

I can't write today. There is too much to watch. All of my favorite shows are on and I can't miss a minute. Biggest Loser comes on soon. No, I'm not being lazy while watching the show. I'm doing arm curls while watching the show every time I eat a cookie. And I'm burning calories when I chew. I'm much too busy to write.

I can't write today. I've got to farm on Facebook and manage my mafia. Someone just posted links to a dozen music videos that I simply must watch. I've got to tweet on Twitter and manage my Pinterest. Time to describe my day in 140 characters or less: "Writer's block rears its ugly head. My story seems to go nowhere. I simply can't write today. #notwriting #fail". I'm much too busy to write.

I can't write today. My internal editor won't stop shouting. The comma needs to come out of my poem. Later this afternoon it will demand its return. It grinds my flow of words to a halt as it inspects each word and phrase with intense scrutiny. Revising this poem will take all day. I'm much too busy to write.

I can't write today. Nothing is going my way. I woke up late. My shower was cold. My shoe got wet. I burnt my lunch. My car won't start. My hair has a mind of its own. The whole world stands against me. The stars are not aligned in my favor today. Facing the zombie apocalypse would be a better day than today has been. Sitting in this corner, in the fetal position, is the safest way to pass my day. I'm much too busy to write.

I can't write today. The ideas in my mind have become stagnant and dull. The poetic prose which flows from my pen has passed. The main characters of my story have decided to take a vacation week. The blank white sheet intimidates me and haunts me in my sleep. My words stumble and stutter and fail to evoke emotion. It is far better to wait until tomorrow. I'm much too busy to...

 Wait.

I guess I could write today. All I had to do was start.


Photo courtesy of Creative Commons.

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