My desk is cluttered with bills, lipsticks, lip balm, dishes from the night before, my nike pro watch, small samples of hand cream, an open Bible, an old passport picture that makes me look like an ex-con, and an interpretative picture my friend painted of my uterus-galaxy. When I sit down, I can see an old bill hanging up on a clip, a giant paperclip stand that used to have a card in it, a very cluttered pencil cup, and tape markings on the wall where pictures used to be. But, if I write on my bed, my butt falls asleep on the old, hard, futon. I hear cars zooming by my window, children screaming in the park behind the apartment, and the neighbors fighting with violent words. Oh, and the cats. Cat sex, cat fights, and starving kittens are the springtime special.
You’re right, my life is suboptimal. The paint is chipping in my room and in my life, exposing blank drywall underneath. I’m in the middle of moving. Half my stuff is at my parent’s house, and the other half is here, waiting to be thrown away or broken by the airport security. Transitions are never fun, especially when they’re drawn out.
However, for a good writer, conditions do not deter word connections. In You are a Writer, Jeff Goins encourages everyone to write. You don’t need the perfect time, place, or situation to write. You just need to write.
I write after my 5 am workout with the birds chirping and my roommate blowing her nose from a night’s worth allergies. The endorphins, tingling muscles, coffee, oatmeal and wet hair focus my writing. Everything is taken care of. I only need to write.