Warning. Reading this might be a complete waste of your time, but if you have a minute…
It’s already 9:30 – I have writing to do. I am remaining faithful to my path. I get a good deal done when I am writing. I am grateful for a workshop I took on the art of slow writing. I am finding what I learned there to be a true process for me.
I love the Chill station on Apple Radio.
It all gets jumbled. The beat of the music and the words in my mind – like a model – module – mobile. That’s it! A mobile in my head. Hangers. Strings. Little planets hanging. There is a music planet with tiny people beating big drums so loudly, and I can barely hear them from my vantage point. The people could be giants pressing play on a small system which emits giant sounds just for them. I can almost hear it.
I listen to the happy clicks sounding from my stove top. It falls in place with the beat. The music and home-cooking planets of the mobile are in concert.
From the corner of my eye I can see Frida and Sir Simon spying the squirrels leaping from vine to branch on this 40ºF, rainy day. Sir Simon is sitting next to me now. He is a sweet kitty who has made his way into my WIP.
I am distracted. In the middle of morning pages. Time not to lift the pen from the page and continue with my thoughts.
The Journey of a thousand…
I do not know where I am going, or maybe I do and I just cannot believe it. I probably shouldn’t open my laptop until I have written three pages.
I do not feel as though I am insignificant. I do not feel I have to prove myself. That’s like a pickle saying it needs more time in the jar. Not sure this analogy works, except that I am allowed to show up and work hard just as I am. Not sure how pickles spend their time.
I wonder how the beans are doing? Really, I have pinto beans on the stove. I put in red and green cabbage, onion, apples, and half a bottle of Bragg salad dressing because I am a little lazy when it comes to seasoning. Besides, Bragg is awesome.
I heard on NPR (WBUR) how great cabbage is for you and, presumably, me. Like a miracle drug. They said cabbage has been shunned because it has an optics problem. It costs next to nothing and has been perceived as something only a poor person would eat. Now I feel like I owe it to cabbage to eat it everyday. I think making one nice big pot of it should suffice.
I can see a window sign on the coaster in front of me. Flashing a bright blue “WHISKY” in it. It’s an advertisement as if to say, “Whatever else you may find here, there will be whisky.” A friend once told me that when he has to be in a meeting of any kind he writes a word and then proceeds to find other words from those letters. He does this so he can focus on what everyone is saying. Focus.
WHISKY. Whisk. His. Ski. Sky. Why.
Did I miss one?
If you’re wondering what the point is to this post, or the morning pages for that matter, it is to get all of the inconsequential stuff out of my head so I can focus on the task at hand. Julia Cameron says it silences the sensor/ the critic.
Furthermore, it gets all of the I, I, I’s out of me. A warm-up to the day. Yoast is having a field day with me for poor writing. That’s because this is straight out of the gate. No revisions.
Alright. It’s time for me to head back into my WIP. To Earth 50 years from now and the investigation of 5 missing girls headed up by my protagonist, Josie Ramos.