At times, my writing focus is about as clear as swamp water.
Sometimes I inadvertently go on a writing sabbatical. Things get in the way. When the “match” goes out, it’s
like getting a D.C. politician to tell the truth challenging to restart the flame. For example, recently:
There I sat.
Alone in my office.
Staring some more.
Searching for ideas.
Here’s what I came up with the first few hours
- My computer screen is dirty.
- Gravity is, at this very moment, tugging my face toward my knees.
- Jazz, one of my two Standard poodles, will someday have lockjaw.
Why wasn’t I a twin?
- What is the life cycle of a corn cob?
To put it mildly, a snaggley wad of barbed wire was more inspirational than anything I could conjure.
FOCUS! I commanded myself. But I couldn’t. So I rose from my desk and walked outside. I stared into tree branches, watched two screaming young children throw a temper tantrum, listened to cars on a busy road, and looked into the faces of everyone I passed.
I lounged in front of the TV like a lazy Queen of Slob. I went to the movies. I sighed. I made nachos. I cried. I laughed. This went on for about a week.
Blogs happened. Multiple chapters in my current Work in Progress (novel) happened.
It proved what I already knew: sometimes we must “un-focus” in order to focus.
When water doesn’t flow, maybe the creek is dry. Go fill it up.
Know what I mean?
Just for fun . . .