It has been awhile since I sat down to write in the morning. I did that religiously for over a year, publishing what I called “coffee posts”. I did notice that my grammar improved, and that began writing clearer sentences, but I sure did get tired of chronicling the banal. You can only write of the morning softness so many times before it becomes overworked.
They usually started out with “The dawn broke softly outside the Armor homestead .. ”, then went on with some musings about religion and news.
I am forever indebted to my online friend Becky Wiegers, who one morning commented “some morning I am going to read ‘All hell broke loose in the Armor household this morning!’”. It caught me up a little short as a writer wannabe. Yeah, there comes a time when you need to mix things up a little. But the problem is these days is that I am indeed blessed with serenity, and only the newsfeeds get me riled up. But liberals are liberals, and you can only huff and puff at their insufferable elitism for so long before you need to move on. I can’t spend my time riled up either.
So writing then became a problem. I spent all my composing capital on making the banal interesting, and didn’t know where to go from there, so I quit writing entirely, and spent most of my time abusing liberal trolls on conservative news sites. I tried using humor, and if I just touched their comments lightly and moved on, I was fine. But ever so often one would try and engage me, and the battle was on. But my heart isn’t in defeating heresy to the Constitution. I love my country, but it can’t last forever, and the people have discovered Thomas Jefferson’s worst fear. They can now write themselves taxes, and call it good. So I opine that it is already too late for us, and we should let the millennial’s have their ‘paradise’. They most certainly will rue it, but who cares? I got mine, and I’ll be gone when the bill arrives.
There … got that out of the way.
So anyway … here I sit in front of the cyclops eye and write. Sometimes I can just put something down, and watch where it goes, and that is what I am doing here. I want to take up the pen again, but I don’t want to write fiction, I don’t want to comment on politics, I don’t want to warn of the end of the world, and I don’t want to write another damned coffee post.
But the coffee is in fact good, and the morning is in fact soft and cottony, and the sugar cookies are safely tuck in my tummy.
And I do need to discipline myself to write again.
“Thou shalt write of it each and every day. The profound, the banal, thou shalt write of it.”