There was nothing to write that didn’t include describe a bosom. I walked, shuffled, to be honest, to my bedroom and saw the red notebook next to the dog and a bundled blanket. Leaning over to grab the spiraled diary, I felt the friction of an ample belly against my waistband after too much chinese food. Gross vanity disgusted me.
“I hate feeling old.”
Making my way back to the living room where the safety net of her, sat a few feet away, I opened the notebook.
On the third page was a story I didn’t think was worthy to transfer from paper to screen. Handwritten in number two pencil, with notes in the margin, was an idea that made me smile. The night before, in the midst of madness, I’d written without fear.
I unbuttoned my jeans, smiled at the middle-of-the-night creative bent, and started turning it into art.
****blogger’s note****
I had nothing for Trifecta Writing’s “ample” until I chowed on chicken lo mein, went into my bedroom, and flipped open my notebook. This is a true, personal, anxiety-related story. http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/
Today’s song is probably my favorite one out right now. Gaslight Anthem’s new album, Handwritten, is excellent. Get it. This is the title track and it works for this. Crank it.
Great visuals. You tapped into every writer’s mind as they came across old writings, old memories, and brought it up to date – even if life is different now.
thanks, man
Those idle of the night writing sessions usually end up being some of our finest work. I’m sitting here as I read this thinking about this weird dream I’ve been having (one of those repeat ones that progresses further each time) hoping to see the end soon so I can put it to paper. I really like this, Lance,
Middle, not idle. *sigh* damn autocorrect.
ha! gotcha, mama. thank you. I know you know the middle of the night sickness.
Indeed I do. Too often I find myself burning the candle on both ends, which results in me punching a snooze clock instead a time clock during the day.
I love when you’re stuck and real life slaps you upside the head with the inspiration you’ve been totally blind to. The details you put in this scene are perfect to show what’s going on here.
thank you…it was an inspired moment
The best stuff is what flies into my head. Almost any idea I have that comes from thinking about what I’m going to write is no good. I’m glad you articulated this.
Your details are so good.
I related, very much, to unbuttoning those restrictive jeans and yielding to the middle-of-the-night anythings but especially if they are creative…all the better. Welcome to middle age, Dude! And, handwriting at all feels really good, to me!
It’s a gift you have, turning moments of anxiety or stress into creativity. Nurture that. Thanks for sharing this with us.
“in the midst of madness, I’d written without fear.”
You said what many think… you responded to the tug of the buttons on your jeans, and the words inside your heart. Thank you!
Nice little “snapshot” moment. Excellent.
i like it when you like the “writing” posts…thank you
This was great Lance. It’s nice how a few hastily scribbled words can give us some real inspiration.
yeah, sometimes its the offhand stuff that’s art
I love this post, and the song you used to tie it together. It’s wonderful to find a writer who is able to share a great deal in so few words. This little snapshot of your evening is just that.
A recognizable slice of life for any one who’s ever looked back over their old scribblings.
And eaten too much.
thank you guap
The beginning of this speaks to that constant mind-numbing doubt we all feel. The ending is a testament to the persistence of muse.
I love those moments. The times that make you smile and feel your creativity wiggling around in your toes. The gems you find from scattered paper from some forgotten fearless night. That lucid moment when you step outside yourself and see The Writer finding gold. Yep. They are my favorite.
me too…I know you know the “sickness”