(Writing Life)
Mom is trying to be a
Writer.
So we’re being quiet and
leaving her alone.
As we tip-toe, stomp-foot
into the kitchen searching for cookies. Searching, searching till Mom asks What are you
looking for? and we say Cookies and she says They’re
in the cupboard drawer labeled cookies and we shrug and say That’s
weird and stomp-foot back upstairs.
Trailing crumbs as the
dog follows us vacuum cleaner style, which is the right and proper job of dogs
and how they earn their keep.
Mom is trying to be a Writer
so Dad hisses Quiet! Louder than we ever are and Sister wants peach
yogurt not spiced pear and isn’t there any left and Mom says I
dunno and Sister asks again,
and again,
and again,
and again.
While Dad runs the
garbage disposal (which as everyone knows is super quiet), and Littlest Brother
says Be Quiet! to Sister who sticks out her tongue and Dad
yells We need more wood! Which evidently doesn’t count as
noise because if the fire dies we will all freeze to death and Mom’s fingers
will be stuck to her computer keys forever; or at least until spring thaw by
which time she will have starved or maybe even lost that weight she’s been
talking about losing since Littlest Brother was in diapers.
Minutes pass. Mom’s
fingers are still. We imagine she is Thinking..
And the microwave beeps
and Dad rummages in the spice cupboard while making the grocery list for dinner,
and Oldest Brother - spotting Middle Brother eating a bagel by the fire - exclaims Is
that the last bagel!
To which Middle Brother
replies, I Ttihinbm Swo.
And Oldest Brother hollers, What?
And Middle Brother
hollers back, I Thinkbm Swo!
And Dad hisses Be Quiet!! And
Littlest Brother says Mom needs a Be Quiet sign! And Oldest Brother
hollers, Well what the crap is he saying?
And Mom yells HE
SAYS I THINK SO!
So Mom, who is trying to
be a Writer, decides to stay up late to work. And now it’s dark outside and
kinda creepy and are those coyote eyes
gleaming? The fire has burned low though she has the space heater and
a cuppa tea and a bag of spice cookies and it's blessedly quiet with a full moon
shining in through a window she feels not quite positively certain no one is
standing outside of.
Mom’s fingers click
doggedly upon the keys and her mind races and she think thinks: wasn’t
that a scratch at the back door and I’m no doubt imagining the moving shadows
outside the window. Isn't it odd here when everyone is asleep but me, and dang but
this space heater is burning up my right leg while the left is freezing right
off and this flippin' hard chair's making my butt numb.
Virginia Woolf advocated
having a room of one’s own - but look how she ended up. Though I do have a room
of my own and another one besides, so why’d I put my desk so near the family
room in the first place?
Because trying to be a Writer
takes diligence and tenacity and perseverance and total insanity; plus the
other rooms are cold and lonely and no doubt that’s part of the reason poor
Virginia drowned herself.
It was the Quiet.
She just couldn't take
it.
L.D.B. Taylor (aka Lisa) is the author of several books whose newest manuscript is pending publication; she is represented by
Rena Rossner. Formerly of Its Own Sweet Will, she now blogs at LDBTaylor.com (a very new, work in progress!) A lifelong reader and
writer, Lisa appreciates wit,
sarcasm, chocolate, hot tea, cool mountain evenings, travel, and books by the
score.
Incredibly cheesy photo of Lisa.
So funny, and can so relate. I try to get my writing done by 4:30pm because after that, the news comes on the T.V. and there is absolutely no quiet from that point forward.
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