Remember when I used to blog?  Yeah, I do too.  No, I haven’t been trapped under a large piece of furniture, unable to reach the keyboard to share a  snippet from Swim.  It’s just that November has grasped me in it’s saliva-filled mandible and masticated the ever-loving crap out of me.  I am chewed up and spit back out, people, I really am.

So how does my writing fare in these dark times, you ask?  Well, pretty freaking badly, it turns out.  For the past year or so writing has been the fun part of my day (no offense, family, friends, sauvignon blanc), and even when it was hard it was deeply satisfying.  Last week was the first time in twelve months that I went more than two days without writing.  And even worse, without even wanting to write.  I felt like a dear friend  had gone out for coffee then never came back.

But.  But life marches on, and a rolling stone gathers no moss, and time and tide wait for no man.  Um…oh yes, I had a point.  Life very mundanely keeps moving along, leaving me feeling like writing was a pretentious and overly earnest thing that I should have outgrown along with the bad poetry in my Monet notebook in seventh grade.  Then the next thing I know I am in bed at 5:00 a.m. with my brain spinning in mad crazy circles about how I could add more conflict and up the stakes if XXX happens…and suddenly my dear friend is back from Starbucks, a few weeks late but carrying a latte and a molasses cookie and asking for forgiveness.

So I let her in.  I sit down, kind of sheepish, and reopen the document that I haven’t seen in a week.  I reread a few pages, cringe a couple things, but really love a few others.  Fingers back on the keyboard, butt  back in the chair.  I am home.

p.s. I love this song. Like, really love it.  Love love it.  I want to marry it.  And the video is pretty cool too.

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