I love to write, and I want to write well. I want people to read what I write, enjoy what I write and come back (regularly) to read and enjoy what I write. Most of all, I want to write. I may not post well written thoughts, stories or commentaries all the time. In fact, I may not post every day.
The more I blog and the more I read other blogs, the more I want to do better with my writing. There was a time when I would just put pen to paper and let the thoughts flow freely. Nowadays, I find I want to tweak my writing and give it time to breathe, letting the thoughts swirl around in my mind for awhile before I try to siphon the words onto my computer screen. By the same token, if I let the thoughts swirl around for too long, my mood plummets.
I try to write at least three times a week. I find that if I write less than three times a week, the stories in my head become tangled up and twisted, and I become cranky. Such was the case this morning.
Late Saturday, writing topics started rattling around in my mind; by Sunday night, the topics were increasingly restless. When Monday arrived, I knew my time to write would be minimal at best. Shortly after sunrise, Monday’s sunset arrived, leaving me with no writing time. This morning, the stories in my head were threatening a coup. Upset I was missing my writing time, I snapped at my kids and my husband.
While taking the kids to school, I was trying to calmly corral my thoughts. I reached a setback in my calming attempt, when I noticed I left Joe’s lunch at home. *frickin* *frackin* Thankfully, Daddy was working at home, so I called him and asked him to meet us. After I dropped off Charlie, Joe and I met Daddy and got Joe’s lunch. Grumbling a thank you to Daddy, I continued my journey to Joe’s school.
While driving along a curvy two lane road, I noticed the car in front of me slowed, then quickly swerved to the left and went on his way. A car was coming in the opposite direction, and I noticed he was slowing down, too. At that moment, I realized there was an animal in the road running around crazy. At first, I thought it was a goose, and I wondered why it wasn’t flying away. Then I realized it was a turkey, and I stopped the car. (Yes, I know. Turkeys can fly.) At this point, the oncoming car passed us, so Joe and I were alone with the turkey.
The turkey hesitated a little, unsure of our plans. I didn’t budge. Using his bird brain, the turkey seemed to understand I was going to stay put, and he started to cross the road. Joe and I laughed and watched the turkey trot clumsily to the other side.
That turkey wanted to get to the other side, desperately. Oblivious to the world around him, that turkey was determined to get across the road. But, he was surrounded by chaos, created by cars coming and going. Though his determination could have been the death of him (literally), his patience was greater, and he crossed the road, safely.
I am like that turkey. (Oh hush!) I have wanted to write for three days. Trying to desperately to find time and focus on this thought or that thought, my attempts were thwarted by the traffic in life. Just as the turkey did a dance of crazed frustration trying to get around the cars, I have been doing my own crazed dance of frustration trying to get my thoughts into my blog.
* * *
When I was in high school, I started working for an owner of an art gallery. In the back room of the gallery, a poster hung on the wall. The poster had an excerpt from a book written by Robert Fulghum titled, “All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.”
Prior to seeing the poster, I knew nothing of Robert Fulghum or his writings. However, I fell in love with the simplicity of the excerpt from “All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” Here’s a link to it: All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten
Shortly after seeing that poster, I began my search for Robert Fulghum’s book, which was released in the late 80s. My quest to find Fulghum’s book was a tedious task, because it took place in a time when one had to search for books using card catalogs and drive to brick and mortar stores/libraries. For whatever reason, my search for Fulghum’s book took three years. (Seriously.) Since then, I have purchased all of Fulghum’s books. (My search skills have improved, too.)
Fulghum is to me what Lewis Grizzard, Erma Bombeck and Ludlow Porch were to my parents. Like Grizzard, Bombeck and Porch, Fulghum is an author, a humorist and a columnist. Unlike Grizzard, Bombeck and Porch, Fulghum is still alive. Like Fulghum, I am still alive (woo hoo!), and I enjoy writing simple, short essays about the nooks and crannies in life. I try to be humorous, too.
Now for the finale. How do I tie together an encounter with a turkey, my love for authors like Fulghum, my own love for writing and the crazed crankiness that strikes when I am unable to write? I haven’t a clue. As a result, I should be embarrassed by this 1,000+ word essay. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. I needed it. The turkey was not graceful as he trotted across the road, but he got to the other side. I was not graceful with my post tonight, but I was able to write. Something tells me Grizzard, Porch, Fulghum and Bombeck had days like mine. Definitely Bombeck.
Lenore's Thoughts Exactly 
Oh what a wonderful expression of soul, LD! You reached into my life and pulled out a rendition of some of my days. Unlike you, I do not have family so can just realign and, hopefully, laugh at myself. However, I wanted to share something to show you how much I, too, love Fulghum. So it is this: Girl, you just go right ahead and be a mermaid!
Grinning ear to ear, I say thank you SD! I am going to be a mermaid! 😀
Well I really enjoyed reading your post, so you must be going down the right path, crazy turkey dance and all! I loved every word of it.
I nodded my head with everything you wrote. I have these long dry spells where I can’t seem to start a post. Then other times, two or three ideas pop into my head at once and I try to sort it out as fast as possible so I don’t “lose” my train of thought. I have to get it out immediately, so I start typing and drink lots of coffee(kids are usually bugging me constantly during that first draft!) Then I let the draft rest a few days, go back to it and usually end up deleting half of it. Blogging is like therapy for me. Feels good letting it all out and hoping for the best once it’s “out there” for anyone to read.
Oh and I love Robert Fulghum. Excellent books. I haven’t read Words I Wish I Wrote yet though.
Exactly! This is therapy for me, and it does feel good letting it all out. The kids. Oh my. Love ’em, I do. The kids hound me as I try to get thoughts down before the thoughts vanish. (I swear the thoughts can disappear as quickly as they appear.) I am so glad you enjoyed reading this post. I cringed when I clicked Publish. But again, it was therapy, and I needed it. Thank you for your kind comments. Greatly appreciated. Now, go read Words I Wish I Wrote. I was fascinated by his selection.
Ah, yes, snapping at the children and the husband because I haven’t been able to write a post. It’s so comforting to know I’m not alone.
I used to think blogs were a ridiculous waste of time, until I started mine! Now, I love blogging and can’t imagine how I got by without it.Therapy? Uh-huh! Mostly because my family knows it’s my “me time” and they respect that, too. Most of the time.
I love how I see even the most simple things in a new light as a result of my creative outlet. Kinda like you reflecting on a turkey. Makes sense to me. You tied everything together perfectly! Great post!
Thanks AA. If I tied everything together, it must be due to AmiaAmia, my new laptop. (smile)
I’m glad I’m not alone with the snapping, too. I am kinder, gentler Mom this morning. 🙂
Thanks for visiting (again)!
Ohhhh, AmiaAmia! How cute! Congrats on your new arrival. Just don’t bounce it on your knee. I guarantee you’ll have fun with the laptop (I guarantee all of my products).
Looks like you did it…… I am having my own turkey dance this week, haha!
Thanks, Lisa. Good luck with your turkey dance! 🙂
I loved this post, Lenore…I could have written it! I couldn’t shut my brain off on Saturday night because I was trying to think of a blog post to write…then I woke up with a migraine on Sunday morning! I get really cranky when I’m too busy with “real life” to write. I’ve only read one of Fulghum’s books, but he makes some good points. We actually saw a duck cross the road on the way to town this morning (flying low – the car in front of us nearly hit him). It landed in the ditch just as we went by.
Wendy
Thank you, Wendy. Migraines are horrid. I’m sorry you battled one over the weekend. Oh, and like you – we were greeted with a duck this morning. While taking the boys to school today, I had to get out of the car and ‘shoo’ a duck across the road. I’d say I am having a ‘fowl’ week, but I fear an on-slot of tomatoes being thrown at me.
Oh, I remember Fulghum, Lenore! I took “All I Really Need to Know…” with me to college my freshman year, and thumbed through it each time I thought I’d cave from the pressure of studying. What a book!
70% of writing is the desire to do it. You have that, plus talent…now all you need is time. 🙂
Thanks, 36×37. I seem to find the time; it is the quiet I lack. If the time and quiet would coincide, I’d be golden. 🙂
Writing a post every day has been good in giving me a schedule and has helped me develop better writing habits, but I definitely wish I had more time to let my writing ‘breathe’. Once it’s on the screen it seems much more likely to be locked moving in a certain direction, but while it’s in my mind it keep evolving and evolving.
GG, your talent is amazing. Honest. The humor and detail you are able to put out there on a regular basis. Amazing. Like you, my mind continues to evolve the ideas until it is – as you said – locked on the screen. I have to lock it down at some point, though; otherwise I’d become more insane.
I think your writing is suberb. It is so hard to find the time to write, I know, but I’m glad you do.
Wow, Angel. Thank you. You’re a fantastic writer, too. I’m sure your Dad was proud, and I am sure he’s glad you continue writing. (I’m glad!)