There are times that it’s hard to write. Sometimes those times are days. Sometimes weeks. Months. God, I hope they never become years. I don’t consider this writer’s block. I think it’s just recuperation and rebuilding. Each work takes heart. Takes soul. Takes guts.
And with each piece of work we try to dig deeper.
So I give myself a break.
At writing conferences and all over social media I see the mantra butt-in-chair. Butt. In. Chair. And I know that this is the way to get writing done. I get that. But sometimes it’s too much to contemplate writing what we write. How we write it. Even the humorous ones take grit if we do it correctly. Properly.
So if you see me on Facebook or Twitter talking about the fifth Netflix binge. The seventh viewing of Harry Potter movies, the pure unadulterated joy of not creating, give me a nod of acknowlegement and understand that I’m just refueling.
#writingisabadboyfriend because he wants it all. But even He understands that after bleeding out we may need bedrest and popcorn and movie transfusions. Maybe even Sour Patch Kids and Twizzlers, too. There’s plenty of time to eat healthy, live healthy and be productive. Give me this bout of butt-on-couch bliss.
So I can return to the page renewed.
It’s who I am.
It’s what I do.
It’s how I live.
So. Be. It.