Erotica For Writers

I have been reading erotica for writers, Julia Cameron’s Right to Write. I find at the end of every chapter and sometimes even before, I am dying to get to the page to lay out my life and heart like she has, to invite people into my room like I have just been transported into hers. Interestingly today’s topic is about mood, most pointedly about not being in the mood to write. My mood had waxed and waned through the hours of the day and had settled into a most disagreeable slump. I was at a sales course by an American who dressed like a mid western preacher and spoke with the same fever. Normally I would be embracing this kind of action, building myself up to go forth recreate, sell and be better. But my heart was heavy today I felt like I was looking at someone exercising, knowing that's what I should be doing but still not wanting to. I came home swelling with a dark mood, my head felt like it had a snowy TV channel in it, and life felt like I wearing something tight and itchy. Raging I dared the world to annoy me more just so I could give it a what for.

Luckily my friend Suzannah called, I answered the phone ‘hello beautiful’ and my mood melted, just like that. Her tired voice reflected my own dilapidated state and she told me she was just too tired to do a coaching call about my writing. I had asked her about a week ago whether she would coach me through the up’s and down’s I was sure to face and just tell me to keep going. She reluctantly agreed. Her call tonight was to postpone, then she just told me the truth that she was tired, too tired to be profound and almighty and lead me to the path of enlightenment when she barely felt she was on track. We talked it out and agreed to light each other’s way and relaxed. She checked in on my 21 days of writing, on our last call she had set me the task of writing for the next 21 days consecutively for at least 8 minutes. I told her it was going well. It’s actually been going incredibly well, for whatever reason just having the clarity of instruction to write for 8 minutes and with no censor has been very freeing, I am at day 10 and writing everyday is becoming like a comfortable soft T-shirt that I slip on when I get home.

I am sitting curved into the pillows on my bed, the sky outside is a smoky blue as the sun packs up for the day, the breeze of the fan brushes the soles of my feet every few seconds as it turns, David Gray is lilting softly in the back ground, beseeching me to sail away with him. The swelling has gone down and I feel soft, my head is supple and clear, and my mood is quietly sedated.