Sleep doesn’t come easily to me anymore. I fall asleep fine. But, if something interrupts my sleep, it’s all over. And I am finding the more I think about writing, the more I think about writing. The other night, the cat decided to jump on the bed and sit on my chest, purring loudly. Once awake, I started analyzing the plot to a story I’m working on. I really like one of the characters, but I hadn’t developed her enough. Finally, I had to get out of bed and write. (Thus yesterday’s poem about finding morning to be a relief.)
I am also taking the advice of writers who say we have to be willing to write badly. After years of writing only nonfiction (as a journalist) or posts on my blog, I am treading carefully into creative writing. It’s painful, at times. Yet, I take seriously this gift of time to explore my creative side through painting, sketching, and writing.
And, now, back to work….