When I sat down to write this AM, after coming home from my J.O.B. and crashing for 6 hours, I had no idea what my focus would be. I think if you’re a writer, you get what I mean. I don’t know why my intent rarely becomes the written article. You see, stuff just accumulates in my writers’ brain thrashing about in there, competiting to be the first to be set free on the blank page.
I’m not as well organized as I should be, I readily admit this. My exterior world sort of proves it. Boxes and boxes of half finished works take up space in my writers nook. It’s so overwhelming sometimes, that I think, I’ll just throw it all out and start fresh, but, then, I quickly come to awareness and think that those half finished shot stories, one act plays that showed Merit; The complete Poetry manuscript that needs a rewrite; The numerous hand written short stories will find a home in the world of publication; someday…
Procrastination has its place inside my world, that’s for sure. The stuff inside my head is another story. If I don’t get it out of there, I fear that I’ll be caught up in a ‘Museaholic’ lifestyle, there’s one for Webster…anyhow, writers get what I’m saying. It’s 2am and my eyes are tired now. But, my brain is overreactive with creative thought.
“Quiet down in there, I’m going back to bed!”