the rambling writer

Sunlight punches its way through the venetian blinds, spilling across my pillowcase. I curse the sun, then myself for not having heavy drapes to protect me from the realization of morning. I blindly search the nightstand for my cell and checked the time- 9:34. Not in the double digits means nothing to be ashamed of. Every joint in my body seems to pop as I slide myself upright. I’ve always been able to crack easily. Telling me that its bad for my joints is not only false, its annoying.

Three missed calls from a number in Muncie, Indiana. Ahh, dreadful student loans. They say you can’t even escape them when you’re dead. I wonder if that keeps some people from killing themselves? I stumble into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth at the same time, thinking about some poor fool who probably offed himself to avoid his 50K Marketing degree, not knowing the phone calls would find his survivors. No time for a shower today, which might actually be beneficial. I should already be in the car, but I spare a moment for powder and mascara before hurrying out the door. Still need to look approachable.

The Buick hesitates a few times before starting and the windshield is frosted over. I pack a bowl and take a few hits as the defroster clears a small area of vision. Top 40 hits are on like every Sunday, and I’m embarrassed as I catch myself singing along with some auto-tuned broad.

I slide in and take the side streets. Duck my head as a pass the competition— a Vietnam vet holds up a sign that says “God Bless”. I find a spot a couple blocks away and feel security when I hit the manual lock button twice until the “BEEP” sounds.

“Writer’s Block does not exist. Ideas come from everywhere. There’s a saying (attributed to Isaac Asimov) that most scientific achievements start not with a “Eureka!” but with a “That’s odd…” This applies to writing, too. Think of what you notice that others don’t, and go from there. What is stopping you is not lack of inspiration, but lack of trust in your abilities.”

I fell into Mara Wilson’s blog accidentally, and now I can’t stop reading. This quote hit home, for obvious reasons. (By the way, Mara Wilson is the little girl from Mrs. Doubtfire and Matilda)

I haven’t been writing like I used to for quite some time now. I convinced myself that this suffocating writer’s block was the result of happiness; everything I’d been proud of writing came from heartbreak. Once I came out from behind that cloud, the passion seemed to have left with the ache.

But the truth is that I do lack trust in my abilities. And more of the truth is that I’ve known that for awhile. But facing my insecurities means confronting the very-real possibility that I’m not that great of a writer. Which would in turn mean that I’d wasted years pursuing something that wasn’t a good fit for me.

After pondering my potential failure after reading Mara’s blog, I came to a conclusion. I have to write, regardless of my talent or lack there of. When I’m not writing, I’m still writing in my head. I’m constantly composing journal entries, yet my pen hasn’t touched the private pages in months. While I’m walking my dog, I’m trying to sum up something hilarious to fit the Twitter character limit. And when I go to bed at night, I toy with my main character’s first words in my “someday I’ll start it” novel.

One of the things that annoys writers is someone proclaiming themselves as one. This may be a stereotype, but anyone who has taken a creative writing class has met that person. I just have to remind myself to give that dick the middle finger. Stop worrying about what might go wrong, and I just might accomplish something.

I know I can’t be the only one filled with doubt. So I challenge anyone reading this to start putting one foot in front of the other.

Mara’s blog:

http://marawilsonwritesstuff.com/advice-from-auntie-mara-part-two/

So my mom visited over the weekend. She flew into Jacksonville, I drove 2 hours to pick her up. We bought and ate health food. We drank wine with cheese. We discussed books. We drove to the beach two hours away. We discovered my car no longer worked. We rented a car. I drove her two hours to Jacksonville. She flew home.

I love my mom, I really do. But she just does that thing all moms do so well. She says just the right things to push my angry buttons. She turns her normally laid-back daughter into an anxiety ridden bitch.

It started with her asking if my husband and I ever planned on having kids.

I know a lot of moms are probably like this, but this is something I totally, completely, never expected to have to hear from my mother… the woman who has always supported me and pushed me to pursue my dreams. And who seemed reluctant when I was getting married because it was all going so fast.

Now she’s telling me that my lady parts won’t function at 100% after age 27.

I said, “Mom. I’m 24. I’ve been married less than two years. I’m still finishing college. I am too young to have kids.”

She shrugged and told me if I had them now I’d still be young when they got out of the house. (She had my older sister at 22 and me at 24).

I was so annoyed I couldn’t even reply.

THEN

a few days later she was playing detective, asking me what I planned to do with a writing degree after I graduate.

I said I would take any kind of writing job I could get my keyboard-hungry fingers on.

That wasn’t good enough for her. She told me I needed to pick one type of writing.

SHE TOLD ME I NEEDED TO HAVE A PLAN.

That took my breath away.

We shared a very uncomfortable conversation and an equally uncomfortable 10 minutes of silence before she said. “You know, I wanted to be an artist. But I didn’t have a plan. I thought it would just fall into my lap.”

Sigh.

It’s so hard to convince someone who thinks they know everything.

Yeah, yeah.. older, wiser.. blah blah blah.

I don’t think I need a life plan. I don’t know that anyone can ever convince me of that.

I’ll stick to working hard and setting goals. But don’t ask me to write anything in stone.

That’s just silly.

end rant.

Moms rule.

parental advice drools.

xoxo