Tuesday's piece. 4th attempt (or there abouts) at getting the damn thing to post. In the process I've forgotten the title I originally gave it (side note: autocorrect just suggested forgetter. Is that even a word?!).
Tonight's piece follows. Once I've finished it that is.
She should be writing. Needed to in fact. Rioting within her head however were all the hings she'd rather be doing instead. Those kept clawing their way to the front distracting her. She was one to give up. Often she gave up on things because she was much too impatient to put the effort in or keep trying. This writing wasn't going to be yet another thing added to the already too long list. Determination had her sitting staring out into space wondering what to write with frequent glances down onto the still empty word processor screen.
Eventually she wrote a few words. Not enough though. Unsure she stopped, wandered away from her screen and did something else. When she finished her displacement activity she returned to her screen. But still she didn't write. She set a new high score on her current favourite game. Thought how nice a wheatie would be on her sore hip (but lacked the motivation to do that either), the book she was reading.
The thought that was winning the riot and constantly overpowering the ones about writing however was the one about craft. How much she was enjoying seeing it come together and getting back into it. The way it was coming together surprised her and the colours she wasn't sure went turned out to be the perfect match. The feel of the yarn in her hands and the repetitive put it in, wrap it round, pull it through and off, wrap it round, pull it through two and then off of every stitch. By itself so little but put it all together and the possibilities are endless. Soothing, productive and enjoyable all at once. She wasn't a quitter when it came to writing though so she decided to put those thoughts to work and write about the riot clamouring for attention in her mind.
Then she went to bed. With a wheatie. And her book.