Last night I sat with my computer on my lap, nestled comfortably in my ugly mustard yellow arm chair, staring at a blank screen. I wanted to write. I had the time and attention span to write. I even had the proper amount of caffeine in my system to write. But I lacked one key factor, I did not have the inspiration to write.
This gray cloud has been hanging over my head for far too long. I want to give it an eviction notice, but I can't find a way to do it. I wish it would go for a walk to get some fresh air, and in its absence I could sneak into it's place and haul all of its belongings to the curb and change the locks. Then maybe I could write again.
I usually find inspiration by writing about a place or experience that is familiar, but right now, I wouldn't even want to skim, let alone read, those familiar experiences myself. My mind and writing have burrowed down to a dark, cynical place deep within me and I don't like it. Nobody wants to read that. Not even my mother, and biggest fan, would make it more than a few pages in that book. People want to read books that make them feel good about themselves, or stories that help them to escape the crap of their own life and lose themselves in a new world that a book creates. Nobody wants to lose themselves in the book that is written from the crappy place I have been mentally lately.
What it comes down to is that I need some new adventures. I need to travel and explore and just do what I love with people that I love to be around and forget my troubles. These adventures don't need to be anything grand. I don't have to go to far away places and do things that I have never done before, though that would be fun too. I want to again fall in love with where I am and who I am with already. It has been too long since I've played the tourist. A small cash flow and this dreaded winter weather haven't helped either.
Maybe this weekend I will take some time for myself. Maybe I will go to a downtown cafe in some other nearby city and just sit and listen to the people around me and write. It will very likely be crappy writing, but at least I will have gotten words on a page, and that is always step #1.
I wonder why sitting in a cafe always sounds (or is) so cathartic? It's kind of weird, but there must be something to it besides the limitless supply of java.
ReplyDeleteSounds good. One of my fantasies is to get a hotel room for a weekend--somewhere in proximity to a cafe or diner--and concentrate solely on writing or editing or whatever. Billy, of course, thinks that's suspicious behavior, so I guess it's not in the cards.
You can do it!!
I think cafes are supreme people watching places! You get such various people groups coming and going that it is fascinating! I would love to get a hotel somewhere cool nearby and write and pretend I was on vacation, but my bank account would think that was an unwise use of funds. So if you wanted to fund that trip, I would gladly go! Or, we could make a plan to go together, split the room, not talk to each other most of the day, and just write like crazy women, then maybe Billy wouldn't think it was so suspicious!
DeleteI always envision myself in a hotel room with my radio on in the dark with the window open to beautiful sky scrapers.
DeleteMusic, inspires me. I feel the words, the beat, the emotion. It is funny it blocks out all other noises for me, distractions. But that too is another dream. Ahh, to be locked away in a hotel room....writing, listening...Yeah, I'm totally dreaming!
Hang in there Ashley!
Nita