Elizabeth Willis Barrett………….July 2017
I sit at my computer and look up everything I can to delay me from having to actually do some writing. I check out Facebook and find that people are doing wonderful things without me. I look up tickets for a concert that I really want Brad and me to go to and realize it is on the same day we will be out of town. I read about some great two-for-one vacation specials which still would cost a mere $6,000. And I learn more about Thomas Jefferson on Wikipedia to add to what I’m learning about him in the very well written book America’s First Daughter by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie.
I am so easily distracted. Just now I stop to look up info on Dray and Kamoie and see what other books they’ve written because they did such a good job on the Daughter one. I discover that they have co-written My Dear Hamilton which is about Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, the wronged wife of Alexander Hamilton. I didn’t know she had been wronged. Now I have to look that up. I try to put the new book on my Overdrive or Hoopla wish list but find that it won’t come out until next April.
I open up my website wisdomfromthesages.com and scan the stats. That is always a gratifying and time-taking thing to do.
Ok. I’m ready. Finally, my Muse is calling at the door of my writer’s block.
Wait a minute—now Brad is calling. From the other room. He wants to know if I can hear him well enough on his new phone. It is hard to bring my brain back to what I’m trying to do here. I am trying to write an essay. A simple, unobstructed essay so I can post it on my blog.
There are other distractions besides the internet and phone. I felt a great need to make cookies today, watch King Richard the II while I pranced on the elliptical and sort through a stack of papers that keep piling unrelentingly on the kitchen desk.
I wonder if Stephanie and Laura ever have a hard time settling down to writing. Do they get overly distracted as I do? How do writers do it? How do they shut out everything else and get down to the business before them? When I study writers and their suggestions for being a successful writer they all say the same thing. “Write! Writers have to write.” Like most things, that is easier said than done.
Brad has a meeting in an hour. Gives us some time to watch another episode of Turn on Netflix, about George Washington’s spies. I may not be writing, but I’m learning more about the Revolution and the huge sacrifices made to make our country. “Great” and “Again” were added later.
Brad is off to his meeting. Maybe now I can write. Well, I thought he was off. He is back in the house for his keys. Now he’s off. I sit at the computer. Nope. He’s back in. This time for his headset. I’m glad for that since if he’s going to be on the phone, at least he will be hands-free. Again he is off. But once more the door opens and Brad is back. I try not to groan out loud.
“Call my phone,” he commands. I do. It is located and this time he leaves for good. Good is a good word here since it is for good he leaves. He is in charge of a lot of Young Single Adults and they need interviewing and counseling.
Ok. Now. I am determined to finish this and get it posted. Wait. Wait. The dog wants out.
Now? No. I’ve got to get a drink—just water. Although something a little stronger might help me in my quest.
Now I’m ready. But first I need to go find my phone charger. The battery is low. I cannot have a phone with a low battery. Being phone-less for even five minutes would be a trial and there are enough trials without adding one so easily remedied.
Eww! (How do you write that?: Oooooooo? Nnnneh? Uuuuuh? I am trying to write a word that sounds like an exclamation of frustration. I could probably look that up on the internet.) I am frustrated because now the dog is barking. I have already related that we have fallen out of favor with our neighbors on the east. A barking dog will not help the situation.
I leave my computer to yell “Leave it, Cash!” out the dog-slobbered sliding door. That is what Brad tells me I have to say to this monster of a dog named Cash. “Leave it!” He doesn’t.
But my Muse does. She is offended and skulks away.
“Not you,” I call after her. “I was talking to the dog. ‘Leave it’ was meant for the dog.”
But it is too late. She is gone.
In my vexation, Dorothy Parker’s somewhat famous quote comes to mind:
“I hate writing. I love having written.”