I haven’t written in a while. That’s because finals hit this week. Thus, I’m in a metaphoric foxhole, pinned down under heavy fire. We’re out of coffee, nearly ready to surrender. And then it comes–that moment of sanity when you pause and say to yourself, “Self… it’s going to be okay. No one’s life is on the line.” Or at least, that’s the point I have reached. I’m doing my best, and that’s the most that can be expected. And life goes on.
The trouble is, I always have the best ideas for writing when I’m in these brief seasons of madness. Still awake at 330 a few mornings ago, I recall staring at the ceiling with a thousand ideas rushing through my mind. Thinking, I could probably get up for a few minutes and jot this before I lose it… but then I might lose another hour’s sleep. At this point, nothing is worth precious minutes of sleep, so I let go of my fleeting inspiration. And poof… it glides away on silent wings into the growing dark.
Will it always be this way? I know that studenthood will be behind me shortly, but busyness will certainly not. Will I always have what seem my best ideas while I’m working behind a counter, or up in the middle of the night exhausted, or running late to church? I feel like it’s not irony, but the excitement of the moment that causes Creativity to tug and whisper, “I’m here, catch me if you can! I won’t wait, come along!” The unsatisfactory solution by which I’ve attempted to tether her is notebooking–jotting when I have a spare moment. But still, she eludes me with a wink and a laugh and by the time I go back to write the moment has passed.
Have you a solution? I’d love to hear it. Some would say that I need to be more dedicated to my craft, I’m sure. Put aside time to practice, they’d say. Perhaps that’s the truth. Nonetheless, I cannot be the only one who struggles with this. Thoughts, anyone?
An Audacious Poet 