Writing Process: There’s Gotta Be Another Thing to Look at

I should be done with my break. I gave myself 15 minutes off, only that, and I’ve already clicked on everything I could click on – all the sports, girls and Fishdom levels – but I scroll through it all again.

My brain, if it was working, is thinking that there has to be another site, something that I haven’t checked, something that will make me move forward perfectly with my day and get back into my writing.

Maybe an inspiring Instagram video? A police chase! How did he survive that crash? A boat flipped upside down. How did they do that? Not the scripted ones. They’re contrived and stupid. What’s wrong with these people? Don’t they have anything better to do? But the animals! Wildebeests fighting back against lions? A pug chasing a bear? Extraordinary! And then, of course, all the pretty girls.

I think I might have an idea for writing. It’s there, in the corner of a thought. I can write now. I have it. Or maybe not. No. I am lost. I know that. I need to go for a walk, anything to get away from my stupidity. Yes, a walk. That’s a good idea. Just give me another five minutes. I’m really almost done.

Twirling Her Hair

Her forefinger and index entwine up the black strands, climbing toward her head, pulling it sideways and down. twirl1The thumb is the anchor, spooling around in loop after loop, but forgetting the ends, letting them go, until her head pulls back and they have to start at the bottom, pulling up again. It is absent-minded, desperate, alternately slow, almost still, then frenetic. twirl2It goes on, delicate, mindless, ecstatic and determined, the sunlight warm and orange, a spider spinning a beautiful erotic web.

And then she turns her head, and as attractive as she is, full-lipped and confident, her look subtracts from the motion, for she is calculated in her look, and cannot understand the elegance of her own hand.