Tag Archives: writing

Another Absence…

Sometimes I beat myself up just a little bit that I have slacked on writing.  And sometimes I forgive myself because I am a busy girl.  And other times I realize that I just don’t have any inspiration for writing and that is when I get sad.  At heart, I am a words person.  I love words.  Love. Them.  And being a words person means I must always be reading or writing something.  I mean always.  Whatever I am doing, I am either reading or writing.  Even when I’m driving.  Every sign that passes by, I read.  I can give you directions somewhere based on the signs you will pass along the way.  If I hear something I like during the day, I write it down.  I have pieces of paper stashed everywhere and most times I have no idea what happens to them.  Little scraps of sentences clutter my wallet, purse, and bag I use for work.  So that is why it makes me sad when I lack any writing inspiration and saddens even more when someone thinks my writing is taking away from my job.  It makes me not want to write anymore when I hear or think that someone believes I am writing rather than working.  As much as I would love to get paid to read and/or write, I don’t.  I get paid to sell.  So sell is what I spend most of the time doing, and truth be told I think it is part of the reason I lack writing inspiration.  When I was writing regularly I would do most of my writing in one day and then schedule the posts to go live throughout the week.  Or I would write a post the night before and schedule it to post the next day.  So while I was out meeting with professors and navigating college campuses, my posts were going live and updates were appearing on Facebook and Twitter without me doing a thing.  So please, friends, don’t think that I am slacking on my job… I’m just slacking on my writing.

Hell—

A short story attempt

There he is, sitting on the park bench reading a newspaper.  I pass him every day on my way to work.  Most people in my office drive to work each day but I prefer the 45 minute walk through town.  It would only take me 30 minutes if I didn’t go through the park.  I can’t resist the sound of the birds chirping, the crunch of the leaves in the fall, and watching the flowers bloom in the spring.  It makes me work day just a bit more bearable.  And this guy.  He makes my day bearable.  Every morning I tell myself this will be the day you say good morning.  Simple enough.  Good morning.  You can even nod your head.  Or just say it is as you walk by with minimal eye contact.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s the initial reach out that counts; the first words; the beginning contact.  It will turn into a lasting relationship.  One that starts slowly of course.  A good morning here, a hi how are you there, and maybe, if I’m lucky, a smile.  So this morning I set out with a mission.  Today is the day! I shout in my head.  I walk with a little extra pep in my step as I hop down my front steps.  I practice by saying hello to everyone I meet along the way.  Hello surly drunk that sips his hangover coffee on the stoop!  Hello flower delivery guy who listens to his music so loud I can hear his headphones!  Hello beautiful woman that I wish I looked like!  Hello baker, how I hate your tempting sweets!  I bounce into the park ready to make my move.  I approach him.  There he is as always.  I’m 20 feet away.  10 feet.  5 feet.  “Hell—.”  I choke on the last syllable.  He looks up.  Oh no.  All I got out was hell.  What do I do now?  How do I fix this?  Crap.  Shit.  I walk away quickly.  Tomorrow, tomorrow will be the day.

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