Dear Writer Girl,
You say you want to write.
But you’re not.
Babe, you said years and years ago when you started this
that you were in it for the long term.
But it comes in ebbs and flows.
You have conflicting feels about that, I know.
I see you in the wee hours
staring at white screen
that little cursor blinking as if it were a heartbeat.
You play Bohemian Rhapsody
And your heart soars and dives
With the words of Queen.
You pray that it will happen…
And then your fingers meet the keys
And the dance begins
And you stare at the last sentence of your work in progress
And all that comes out
Is this sad poem
I don’t know why.
Sometimes, I wish I never started this project.
But then where would I be?
Would I be happy?
Would I be dancing barefoot on a beach with the man of my dreams?
I see a little silhouette…
But it’s not that.
I bet Galileo never had this problem.
My heart dances around words like dream inspire create hope work wild
And I wish that I could soar as high as the guitar strings
While I bang my head and rock out to my favorite song.
But then it comes back down
And I wonder why I do this to myself.
I put myself here.
In this room.
In this chair.
With stacks of paper.
And a blank, white screen.
With nothing on it
But this little blinking black line.
And it is my heart beat.
Because sometimes the best part of the universe flows
Through my fingers
And into the doc.
And when that happens,
And that’s why I breathe.
Write your damn novel.
Your Future Self [Who is Writing]