When you want to write, but the words won't come, what do you do?
When you don't actually have the time because you should be washing dishes/hanging up laundry/going to bed but you miss writing so much that you are willing to forgo sleep for another 20 minutes and the baby will wake up by then, anyway, so what's the point of going to bed, what do you do?
When you need to wait for the granola to cool so you can package it up and you just don't want to do the rest of the dishes (there are fewer than there were this morning, so that's a win, right?) what do you do?
You turn to five minute friday. You forget about the housework and the babies (but not really) and the bed calling your name (though again, not really) and you write for five minutes. Because you never have to feel bad about allowing yourself five minutes!
Then you remember.
You remember how much you loved the sound of the keys clicking while you type and the shape of the paragraphs when you try to be all artsy and authory and make them all segmented and stuff. You remember how much you loved the community of your fmfparty goers, even though you've never actually met them.
You remember the least favorite professor you had in college who told you that you had a gift for writing and you should think about pursuing it as a career. (In my last semester. Thanks a lot.)
You remember the joy of being recognized in a local story writing contest in the third grade and deciding that this is what you wanted to do with your life. What happened to that?
Is writing one of those things that you lose over time if you don't exercise it? Do you get out of shape? This rambling mess of a post makes me think yes. But I'd rather share this than nothing at all.