Jon and I have come up with a plan to encourage each others’ creative juices. When he practices his guitar, I will blog and vice versa.
In theory, this is brilliant. We’re partners, using our alone time to encourage productivity in the other. Never again will I groan when he wants to go upstairs and strum away because it means he is giving me a chance, challenging me, actually, to do my own thing, vent my frustrations and figure out my ponderings.
Creativity doesn’t always flow just because someone else is in the mood to be creative. But here I am, typing away in what must be forced creativity because he was the one who started playing. And now he’s finished and I find I want to keep going.
It’s true, I put it off for a while. I played with the dog, double-checked the wedding RSVPs, and then I poured myself a glass of wine and started writing. As it turns out, the starting was my biggest roadblock.
I was doing well this year, in part taking on the WordPress challenge, although I set my goal in between the daily and the weekly, more like 2-3 times a week. And then suddenly, I got overwhelmed with life, which is probably when I should have started blogging daily. Instead, I stopped. Blocked out the creative juices and decided I had too much on my plate to try to write about it.
Earlier tonight I was tense and restless, knowing that the rest of my week is jammed packed with doctors appointments, a bridal shower/dinner, my attempt at keeping up my workout schedule, a final FINAL dress fitting — the one where I get to keep the dress at the end — oh and I should probably go into the city and get my dressmaker/friend-I’ve-known-forever that gift I’ve been meaning to buy. I typed up the wedding weekend schedule today, and I’m slightly urked that I have to get up at 8:30 AM the day of the wedding; but what if we really need the full 2-1/2 hours to get ready after breakfast? What if my hair is in curled Medusa state and we need more time?
To write, however, is to take all these things and put them away on the screen. There, they’ve been taken care of. The wine has begun to relax my shoulder muscles and I’m beginning to think of which books I should read on the honeymoon, when I’m in a little valley in the Alps with nothing to do…