I found this journal entry yesterday, it was the last one I wrote right before I began to write my first book that was published, Oracle In The Mist:
I write my morning pages (Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way)
and then . . . I stare at the blank page and wait for the words to flow.
I think about my problems, my diseases, my loves – some real some imagined.
The fridge calls me again. I rummage through it trying to find chocolate anything.
But the good stuff is gone. It may have been me but I’m never quite sure.
Outside the sun and blue skies are beckoning to me. I daydream from my window.
I consider going for a walk but I know I can’t because I’m chained to this damned desk.
I consider ringing someone but I don’t; everyone is busy at their work. I have no news.
I think about my friends who have real jobs; they get to be with actual people and earn money.
They flit off on holidays and buy luxuries that I just can’t afford. Will that be me one day?
If I could have even a little recognition and money for my writing . . . if only I could.
Again with the daydreams! I sweep the floor, water the plants, put the dog out.
And then it’s back to the daunting blank page. I think about the eight years I’ve been sitting here,
And with the customary pang of guilt for my hard working husband and his confidence in me.
I think about how lonely I am and right then my youngest child bursts into the room.
Sweet relief ! She wants to share her day with me and I’m glad to get away from this desk.
I dozed off in the lounge chair while keeping her company this afternoon and had the strangest dream about a book I’d written called “Oracle in the Mist.”
Image courtesy of Laurie Turtenwald