Not Writing Itself

Today, I checked my mail four times.  FOUR.  Want to know what I was looking for?  The romance novels that I ordered from Harlequin.  (No, they didn’t come).  Don’t judge me! I’m writing one . . . and when I say I’m writing one, I mean that I keep intending to write one but it just won’t come out.

I read blogs to help inspire me and watch far too many chick flicks in hopes that my characters will pop out at me.  I read the literature I love, and epic literature about love.  But when I sit down at the keyboard or with a legal pad in my lap, nothing comes.

I started this blog to find my voice and get a few words on the page every day, even if they weren’t about my romance novel.  Two weeks into this project, I’m beginning to realize what the problem is:  I have been living my life confined entirely to the four walls of my studio apartment and the four blocks between my front door and the Coffee Shop.  It is a lovely set of four walls, adorned with the artwork that I am very proud to have created.  And they are a lovely four blocks of towering trees and beautiful people.  But they just aren’t enough.

When I’m in my apartment I can pretend that I am anywhere in the world.  Most of the time I’m pretending that I’m in Hawai’i with my Lover and the friends I am beginning to call my own.  Sometimes I imagine I am much closer to everything and everyone that I interact with on the internet.  And other times I feel completely isolated and alone.  I thought that with enough imagination I could create a world for my characters and their feelings if I was confined to my space, but that’s not really possible if I’m forgetting what my world looks like.

Today I realized that not only did I make four circular trips to the mailroom in my apartment building, but I watched a movie three times and I’m pretty sure I was talking in circles (to myself).  The happiest day of my week was the day I went to see “The King’s Speech”.  Even though I went to that movie alone (maybe because I went to that movie alone) I came away feeling satisfied.  Like I was a piece of the world that had found her place for a few hours in time.

I don’t want to lose sight of who I am just because it’s easier to pretend the world is different with the windows closed.  Just because I have a job and friends and someone who loves me doesn’t mean that I can stagnate and none of that will change.   So tonight I say, good-bye boring version of me.  Hello, slightly less boring version of me.  Let’s go to the movies.

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