My poetic offering today is dedicated to a very special writer friend of mine. She is, at present, a full-time writer and one of the UK's greatest natural resources. Sadly, she knows all too well how matters mundane can push matters literary off to the side. I am quite certain that she knows how easily a productive train of thought can be derailed.
I need to edit chapter six or is it chapter eight?
I shouldn't start so early since my brain won't concentrate.
My characters are nagging they don't like how they've been wrote.
I think most times they do it just to try and get my goat.
A plot hole big as Texas has just sprung up in my path.
I've half a mind to chuck it all and take a bubble bath.
It's not as if my progress since I sat down at this screen
Will suffer if I take an hour and soak my body clean.
I fear too much of chapter five was wrote in passive voice.
I'm sure I had a reason for this non-productive choice.
I still prefer to tell a tale much more than I do show.
I'm not sure if I'll change it or relent and let it go.
I pause and try to stifle back a monumental yawn.
I can't remember if I put the blasted kettle on.
I pad out to the kitchen, thoughts awhirling in my head.
I truly need a cuppa and some buttered jelly bread.
I've fortified my body with three cups of scalding tea.
Perhaps my work in progress will cooperate with me.
I've schedules I must keep if I'm to meet my daily goal.
But first another cup or two and half a jelly roll.
Good grief it's nearly noon with not a bit of writing done!
And damn, the bus to town is due to leave just after one.
A writer's life's not leisure or an endless bunch of thrills.
I still have food to buy and pay a mighty stack of bills.
I'm home at last from shopping and the time's now half past three.
I've got a nasty headache and a nap's the thing for me.
I'll only rest an hour and then resume my writing task.
I don't believe a bit of sleep is all that much to ask.
Gadzooks it's half past nine...I didn't set my cursed alarm.
My mouth tastes like a litter box and I can't feel one arm.
A new bed's going on my list of thing I need to get.
Except, unless I sell some books, I can't afford that yet.
By ten I'm up and on my feet to get myself a bite.
My nap's insured that now I'll have to work straight through the night.
Or better yet, a proper meal instead of some quick snack
Is just the thing I need to get my motivation back.
My meal consumed I note the time's eleven forty five.
That heavy feed has sapped away my little bit of drive.
I think I'll hit the couch instead and watch a DVD.
Tomorrow is another day...the work will wait on me.