It’s because you’re feeling crazy isn’t it? Don’t worry, that’s just the Meth talking. I’m kidding. It’s those creative juices burbling all underneath your cranium. Plug a spout in to your forehead and drain that sticky syrup on to the page, but first you’ve got to be equipped with the proper tools, instruments, and at-MOS-phere. Otherwise? Otherwise, why bother? Genius will never come. You might get a few drops of something sweet, but not enough to cover your hotcakes in, if you know what I mean?
- First, sit at your desk, preferably a heavy mahogany roll top, with one of those high end ergonomic chairs that cradle you like the palm of a hand. I don’t mean like one of those creepy retro five fingered chairs either, that will never do. I’m talking extravagant, a chair that will lovingly hold you while you spew your masterpiece in a single sitting. That thing in the corner covered in cookie crumbs and chocolate milk stains is so not a desk, it’s an abomination. It’s cardboard and glue with casters nailed to the bottom, no wonder you’re not coming up with anything good. Fine. The dinner table is fine. Yes, a dining chair is preferable to that dangerously leaning monstrosity that keeps rolling out from under you. I’m just not certain the curvature of your spine is conducive to literary brilliance.
- Do you have a fountain pen? One of those old Underwood typewriters? No, no, not to write with, that would be extremely impractical. You just need one to set next to your laptop to provide mood and the proper amount of IN-spiration. It works. I’m fairly certain. But why are there so many damn ponytail holders on your dinner table? You don’t actually eat here do you? Did someone carve their initials on that corner?
- So yes! Your laptop is open, there’s a blank page awaiting your masterful artistry, those QWERTY keys are humming with potential. Now is your chance. Now. Wait. There are children in this house? That changes everything.
- So here we are. Predawn. Your mind is fresh and brimming with ideas and possibilities. Stop yawning, dammit. So the ideas blablabla. Sit down at the table. The computer is on. The house is blissfully silent, except for the A/C which is really more than a little distracting. Is it always that loud? You might want to get that checked. I hope it’s under warranty. Your dog is snoring too, isn’t it?
- Okay, you’ll need ear buds and the appropriate mood music. You’re writing to your own soundtrack, the soundtrack of your life. It will power your muse, imagine him swaying to the rhythm of…Seriously?! You couldn’t have just charged the flapping thing last night. You knew you were gonna need it today!
- Music – check. Laptop – check. Genius – close enough. No, no, no, do NOT check your email. Don’t log on. I mean it. Don’t do it, not now, it’s just going to…
- Listen, responding to your sister-in-law’s vapid email about how fond her tween is of shoes and outlet shopping, does not qualify as writing. Are you serious about this or not?
- Great. Now the kids are up. Well, go make some toast or something. Whatever. I don’t care anymore.
- Look! Most of the children are out of the house. That’s a total score for you. That little one can watch Dora for an hour or two while you…Lego Batman? You’re going to spend your morning playing Lego Batman? What is wrong with you?
- How many cookies can one woman eat in a day? It’s frying your brain, you know? Processed sugar and video games. Fried. Abso-flipping-lutely fried. I’d be depressed too..
- Huh? Nah, I’m good. Just finishing your crossword for you.
- Yes! The kids are in bed, the house is sort of quiet, and hey! it looks almost clean in the dark. Let’s slap something together for the love of Pete. A fragging limerick. Seriously. It doesn’t matter at this point. You just had to cover the same kid 17 times with a dinosaur blanket and I think you have a piece of fried egg in your hair. Whatever you come up with a this point is FINE.
- A blog post? Really? Next time just write a grocery list, it’ll be more relevant.
