My writing window, I mean. I tried to pry it open last night--and the night before, but gave up without much effort. Because I know that if I have to force it open, I'm not going to like what's on the other side.
It's just, I haven't been in the mood much lately. M was in town visiting us from the States last week, so it was an all-out binge. I'm talking elk sausage and Beef Rydberg (holy hell, it's like gourmet breakfast--for dinner!), veal meatballs, and some deer something or other at a Viking-themed restaurant... and enough wine to wash it all down. I am still blimped out, despite being on a relative detox this week.
But back to the writing mood. I am hoping it will hit just about when the winter weather does. I'm anticipating blogging like crazy while it is cold and dark outside. Sounds nice, right?
It's funny because I write this blog a bunch in my head, but it always happens when I'm on the metro or at work or in the shower or something. That's when the words come and line themselves up on their own, so that the phrasing is perfect and I'm the funniest person in the world. I think, yeah, I'll pop that on the blog later. Good job, Jode! But when it's later and I'm home from work, sitting in front of my laptop on the coffee table, I'm wondering what it was exactly I had wanted to put down. Or if I remember what it was, I can't string it together in a meaningful way anymore. And that's when I close up shop and put on some Mad Men (season 5 finale is tonight chez moi!) and hope that I'll feel more inspired tomorrow evening.
It makes me think of some advice Anne Lamott gave in her book Bird by Bird (which I read so many years ago and lent to someone who never returned it... boo) to always carry index cards with you to write down phrases as you think of them or dialogue as you overhear it or whatever. Fumbling with index cards during a moment of inspiration sounds like a real pain in the ass (especially in this age of techno-gadgetry... I'll bet there's some damn device that can record what I'm thinking while I'm thinking with no effort on my part by now... right?). But it's the idea of always having something at the ready to record your creative moments. Because once they pass, they are often gone for good. Or they never reappear in their initial brilliance, anyway.
It's like the watered down drink you find on your coffee table the morning after a great party. It was such a good idea at the time, in the moment, but now you wonder what possessed you to mix it... and why you thought it was a good idea to get out the Kahlua. You question how this milky watery mess ever made sense to you, much less was appealing. Yeah, that's how it goes with my blog pops, too. Did I really crack myself up over hearing two different radio stations across my work department morph into Kate Bush singing "This Woman's Work," when it was actually like, Robyn on on side and Skrillex on the other? Or some shit? Yeah, I did. And see, it doesn't hold anymore. Stupid Kahlua.
So here's hoping my writing window glides right open when the season goes south. My literal windows will remain firmly shut however. It's gonna be cold out there.