i don’t wanna write (sols)
|A gift from Mary Helen to
each member of our writing
Last night, after the kitchen was cleaned and the kids were in bed and my workout was finished, you would have found me sprawled out on my living room floor. Perhaps you would have heard what sounded like a little moan from behind my hands covering my face.
“I don’t wanna write,” I whined.
Andy just laughed.
Karianne said, “Don’t you make people write all day, whether they want to or not.”
I moved my hands so I could slice my eyes to her. Maybe.
“I can’t even move. I’m so tired. I don’t want to get my computer.” (It’s embarrassing to draw out the words in text like they were in real-time.)
Andy returned with my laptop and plugged it in. Great.
“Get up,” he said to me offering his hand.
I reached up and grumbled again, “I really don’t want to write.”
“Aren’t you writing about celebration or joy or something about being a happy writer?” Thanks for pointing that out.
“It’s not about being all cheery when writing, it’s about celebrating in the thick of the process,” I informed him.
He hugged me and nudged me toward the couch, “Well, then, you better get some words on the page so you can celebrate the fact that you wrote even when you didn’t want to do it in the first place. Isn’t that what you’re always saying makes the difference between being a writer and being someone who wants to be a writer?” Yeah right.
I opened my computer. I reread a few lines. I added a sentence. I felt tight, like I do at the start of a walk, before I’m warmed up. It was uncomfortable, but I kept going, expecting it to get easier. “I’m quitting if it’s not better in ten minutes,” I said to Andy.
“It’ll be better,” he said.
Of course he was right. I became limber and the words began flowing. Chapter one, revised again and again, brought back to the drawing board several times, is now complete. I’m glad I wrote even though I didn’t wanna.
I think this might be the ultimate secret of being a writer — to write even when you don’t wanna.