Anything

It's so much easier to do anything at this moment other than write. Sleep, watch television, eat really fattening things right before bed-time. But I push forward because it's not just "what I do," but more of "who I am." Writers I know all say the same thing...if for some reason they can't immediately write down their thoughts, then they're writing it down in their heads. (Note to others: I'm not always listening to you when you talk. I've mastered the intermittent head nod to make it appear so, but I'm actually dictating sentences to myself that I will be writing down as soon as you walk away.) Most people can get away from their jobs, take a vacation, go to coast, etc. But there's a certain element of mania in writing that can't be appeased. No respite. No coast exists where the calls to us (from wherever those calls come from) can't come in. The words bubble up unbidden and howl until you acknowledge. We channel the stories, and they live in us, until finally, the only relief is to let it out on paper. They just won't go away until we do.

***Dichotomy. Except sometimes the words do stop. And we go through all kinds of strange, personalized rituals to lure them back. ***