Yesterday I was in my writing stride, I thought forever, having rediscovered the ancient art of pen to paper. How the finger/wrist action keeps the flow going, going forward. Typing I see the words clearly in front of me, too easy to evaluate, to edit as I go. Ah, I thought, I have it down, a breeze from here on in. I’m flying.
Harumph!!! Today. Start. Stop. Prickly critic flicking my thoughts away as if they were an annoying ant crawling up its arm. Flick, flick, flick. It is cruel.
And then there is Ego: I want to be grand. I want to soar. I want to be SEEN.
When really, it is about connection.
“When you feel lonely, it means you have lost yourself,” says wisdom lingering overhead watching this.
I have lost myself today. I can’t find the story that wants an audience. Buried. Even the pen can’t find it.
That will have to do for today.
Tomorrow?
I love it. Great line: "Even the pen can't find it."
ReplyDeleteI like the sense of how yesterday it all seemed easy, like I'd have it forever, and now it's gone. I also really appreciated the desire to be seen and heard, to stand out, to express her individuality.
ReplyDeleteEven the pen can't find it - well your pen just did!! Love this - what we all go thru.
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