It should be noted that I am not the writer I would like to be. I refer not to the quality of my writing, but to my demeanor and focus.
I would like to be the sort that goes into a trance and loses herself in creativity. The sort that forgets to bathe, dress for the day or eat. Loses all track of time and doesn’t realize the sun has come up, gone down and back again.
I can understand rolling out of bed and heading straight for the keypad instead of the shower and I have no problem with staying in sweats and a robe.
Eating is another story.
Eating is getting in the way of creativity. My living space is pretty small, which means, I can see the kitchen from wherever I sit. I once lamented that I want to be the writer that heads to my local coffee shop and types away.
I am the type that must be a hermit. But I must be a hermit without access to snacks. I need to get back on my raw food and green juice regimen.
For me, writing is like training for the decathlon (Caitlyn Jenner not withstanding). I’ve slipped a little bit and I am paying dearly for it. Between the sugar and the carbs my focus has been all over the place.
It’s time to get serious and get my greens on.