A Writing Habit

You sometimes hear how lonely the life of a writer can be. I'm guessing it was a non-writing soul who first offered this reflection. Most writers I know are not only immeasurably comfy with their own company, their heads house such an array of ideas, characters and plots - all vying for attention - that there's little room for loneliness.

That said, writing is a solitary endeavor. This is why so many writers stay jammied a good portion of each day, scoffing at The Mary Kay Way. You wonder how many Mary Kay reps actually get up each day and dress impeccably even if they've no firm plans to open the front door.

How pointless to dress to the nines in order to pick up a pen or pound upon my keyboard! Yet, it's also slightly disconcerting to realize it's 1:30 in the afternoon and you're still jammied and perhaps in need of a hairbrush.

If you keep scribbling until 5:00 or so, it hardly matters any longer. But it's those mid afternoon hours that find some of us  writers longing for a writing habit. But what?

I've found my answer as well as wild inspiration with Magnolia Pearl. Aside being the most intriguing web site I've yet to chance across, I love the clothes. Of course, as a SW Florida girl, I'd have to Florida-ize the Dickens out of them. 

And wild inspiration? It trumps loneliness every time.

Change

Change is a funny thing, despite its dependability.  

Many fear it so they'd rather turn their collar up, put their head down and scurry across the street rather than look it in the eye. 

Others face it fearlessly or with only minimal trembling.

Still others turn to it in resignation. These folks tend to sigh alot. 

The other day I sat yet again mending my favorite vintage gown, knowing it was likely the last time my needle would fly through this shattered fabric. The effort was becoming futile. And that's when it occurred to me. While I don't fall into any of the above categories, my approach to change is often like the now continual mending of this garment.

But you can't always save something, no matter how hard you work at it. Whether it be ideas, people, places or tired garments - some things need be left behind as change pulls us forward.

I set down my needle. I gently folded the gown. I stood and walked away.

I chose not to look back. I had to. The temptation to again pick up that needle would have been too strong. And still futile.