It’s odd to me how two consecutive days can be so different. It’s difficult to explain my moods, my energy levels, and why I am creatively stuck when I expect not to be, and creatively free when I expect not to.
Yesterday, the first day of 2012, I pulled into Starbucks at 7 o’clock in the morning. I drove a circle around the building and saw a couple of people behind the counter. I had wondered whether they would open, but it’s not like Christmas when everything is closed. I went in, ordered a grande light roast coffee, and asked what time they had opened. Seven. I asked if I was the first customer of the year. Yes. The woman said I should at least I should get a free coffee or something. Free coffee for the entire year, I thought.
I want to write something other than blog posts. This has been in my head for three weeks. I’m just scared to begin. Yesterday, I started. In Schrivener, I titled the project “For my Girls.” It takes the pressure off to think that I’m writing a piece of fiction for the girls and not for some faceless agent or editor.
I sat in Starbucks for over three hours. It was peaceful. The coffee was good. The music, tolerable. A normal day in Starbucks is much busier. The atmosphere was prime to allow the words to flow from my brain to the screen, but the process was like a car rolling down a hill with the brake pedal stomped every two seconds.
This morning I went to The Y at six and felt, well, BLAH. Last month I started a new twenty minute routine on the treadmill. I began on the “hill” workout at level 5 at 5 mph. Now, I’m at level 10 and 6 mph. Good progress. Today, I plodded through a leg workout and petered out on the treadmill after four lousy minutes. The incline felt too high, the speed, too fast. I hit the stop button and left, predicting more “petering out” here at Panera.
Then I started writing. From the first word it felt good. The words were spilling, the sentences forming. The paragraphs. The ideas. This was ten times easier than yesterday. And I can’t explain why.
And I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll just roll with it.