I know you. You’re like that one kid hiding at the back of the lecture theatre, hanging out all quiet and sneaky-like. Think yourself pretty cool.
And then you get yourself all emboldened and move to the front row. I know your little tricks. Hey, Sarah. Here I am. I’ll stop you writing for a day so you don’t get all burnt out, ‘kay? It was cool for a while. I did write too much sometimes, and at my last job there was roughly a two-hour window per day in which to write.
Mmm… nope. I know what you’re doing now. You’re the reason I have 33 drafts in my blog queue alone now and a million ideas collected over paper and memos and tissue boxes. You give me just enough idea crumbs for me to work with, and then you snatch away at them, sometimes before I even manage to write them down. Tantalizing little snippets, given at the dinner table.
I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing that bilingual pun.
Only now you’re my biggest obstacle, which seeing as you are a personality trait of a sort, makes me my biggest obstacle.
I can’t deal with you all the time, okay? I can’t handle you shutting down the documents I open up to write; it clutters my brain. I hate when you pretend there’s no time, and oooh isn’t this fanfiction a much better way to spend two hours? And yeah, I know you don’t want me all burnt-out on my writing, but I do have readers. I don’t know how many there are, but there are people who read my fanfic. This blog. The occasional tweet I muster up.
You are the writer’s dementor. Instead of taking souls, you take writing energy. Ideas. I want my bilingual pun, dammit. (Seriously, is it too much to even tell me if it was Franglish or Denglisch? I know it wasn’t Spanglish or Italialish)
I like to think I’m conquering you a little bit by blogging daily, so cut me some more slack, yeah? Let me have my puns. Give me more to work with. Novels don’t write themselves, you know.
Okay then. I’m glad we had this chat, and I expect to see less of you in 2016.