Furlough 18

 

 

Sometimes a little bit is more than enough

God it feels good to sit down to the keyboard again, you know what I mean? Just the feeling of getting to it. I feel charged. A day off is always a good idea. It freshens up your face for the gritty work. Absence makes the spirit grow sharper. And all those cliches mixed up haha. Fingers feel the keys, the sound of the plastic clacking makes my heart jump, forming the smile on my face.

I’d actually given myself the day off today and was just sitting down reading the fifth chapter of The Shining (by some no-name author) when I heard a little voice in my head whisper to me, “Write!”

I stopped myself from getting up. Normally I’d answer the call, as it were, to battle, but I reminded myself that I didn’t want to call into my bad workaholic habits. In this time of stress and uncertainty, you must be gentle with yourself more than you’d think you’d need to. So I asked myself, just to make sure, ‘Do I want to or do I feel the nervous need to?” That’s a question I’d never asked myself before (which just proves that I am growing). The answer came back, “I want to!”

And so with a smile, I put down King and gave myself fifteen minutes of novel rereading. About a minute into it, I noticed another voice whispering to me. It was a soft, even, and proud voice.

“You can do this. You can do this. You’re so talented. You’ve got this. God, this is really good. You love this. Can you see this? You will do this and so much more!”

The words were familiar but the voice was not. Normally the voice is smug, a hissing, heart-wrenching hurtful one. With those same words, he’s whispered to me that not only was I so good at this, but I was the best, better than every other writer in existence, and that I must never, ever make a mistake or mess up because I am the best and must BE the best. You know this voice. It’s the Ego.

But this voice, he was Mentor, my positive self, the wise man of my future, my guardian angel. His voice is soothing. He’s not trying to anxiously reassure itself through me. The Mentor simply states the truth. I can see near the edge of his lips a small smile form, I can see his loving eyes, I feel hear his booming voice. My creative true self.

It’s the best I’ve felt in what feels like years.

Again, I try not to let it get out of hand. I try not to be lured by the Ego’s voice who tells me I am better than everyone else. But also I try not to lose this feeling, this good feeling of love and compassion.

And then it was gone. He’s gone, both of them are, Mentor and Ego, and I’m left alone with the words on my screen. I smile and open a blank page and write the words, “God it feels good to sit down to the keyboard again…”

Create and Complete, fellow writers! The day is far from over.

 

 

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