Friday, October 23, 2009

The Masterpiece Monster

I’ve gotten over trying to write a masterpiece each time I sit down at my desk. For a long time I wouldn’t write at all, afraid of what might come out on a blank page. It didn’t help to have the Masterpiece Monster snoozing under my desk 24/7.

The Masterpiece Monster was hairy and uncombed with large jagged teeth that would sink into my arm preventing me from putting words to paper. I’d freeze up with fear. My good sense of self would fly out the window and I’d spend long moments believing the unhelpful hints the Monster would roar at me. “You can’t write about that! It won’t be good enough! You are not a writer!”

She was difficult and wild. Untamable. She had all sorts of tricks up her sleeve like insisting that the kitchen needed cleaning, or reciting all the undone chores, and necessary errands. I didn’t like her but knew of no way to get rid of her. We’d been together for so long it was hard to say good-bye.

One day I fooled her. I took my writing outside under a tree. I began going to coffee shops to write, I'd write in bed before going to sleep. I took my journal on airplanes, and, as everyone knows, monsters are afraid of flying. I didn’t actually avoid going to my desk but I found happier places to explore my new craft.

I don’t remember saying an formal farewell but I began to notice when I did sit down at my desk that the monster was not as vocal, her hair not as hairy, and her teeth not as sharp. She took up less space.

Then one day there was only a dust bunny where she had lived.

Just a little puff.


1 comment:

A Week's Worth of Women said...

This is great!! I am grinning from ear to ear. Marvelous.