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Every Writer’s Dream?

Every Writer’s Dream?

Blink. Blink. Rub. Rub. Focus on. Focus off. The time was. 11:11pm and my eyes were not cooperating in the manner I wished them to. The characters on the second episode of Grey’s Anatomy were going left, going right. There were missing pieces to the plot. It wasn’t their fault. It was mine. My bed was calling. I switched the TV off and shook H awake for he had already dozed off in the middle of the first episode.

I left him to check on the cats, lock up, and to piddle around in the kitchen as he does every night before coming to bed. But, for some unknown reason sleep evades me about one night a week. And tonight was the night. Nodding off before H came to bed was the easy part. Staying asleep through his nightly ritual is another. As he climbs into bed and flips on the TV it is a matter of minutes before he is snoring softly with the TV turned down low, flickering scenes on and off. I wonder how he can sleep like that – and so easily too. I grope for the remote and fumble for the off button.

I’m up in an hour, feeling my way down the dark tunnel of the narrow hallway, wondering what lurks at the end near the light from the moon shining brightly through the living room windows. Nothing reached out to grab me as I made my way to the dimly lit kitchen. I empty the dishwasher, lining my brightly colored Fiesta ware up just so in the cabinets and stacking the silverware up in neat rows in their rightful places in the drawer. I set aside a bowl and glass for H’s breakfast. I turn my attention to clearing the unnecessary clutter from the coffee table, roll up the newspaper for recycling, trash the junk mail,  and stack the magazines neatly on the end table.

Now back in my cozy bed I can tell its going to be a long night. I lay the backsplash in the kitchen, lining up the little one inch square tiles perfectly around the odd shaped window sill and behind the stove. It wasn’t as hard as I though it would be. Standing back and admiring my work, I glimpse the new pantry cabinet we bought last weekend laying bare and naked on its side in the dining area. I upright it in the empty space at the end of the counter. This is no easy feat to manage by myself. The soft gray paint rolls on smoothly and evenly. As the paint dries, I add color to the doors.  The hardware is attached and the job is finished.

Then, I write. I write blog posts – lots of blog post. I write chapters and chapters of “What Line” and put the  finishing touches on the book cover. I start my Alaska book story.

The vibration and a ringing in my ears comes two early as I slide the alarm on my phone off. The narrow hallway is not so dark in the morning light as I make my way down it once again.

Even though I had worked so diligently throughout the night, the pantry cabinet is still on its side on the floor and the backsplash tiles still stacked on the kitchen counter. I should have know better. There was no way I could move that cabinet into position all by myself. However, the coffee is waiting for me to hit the on button, the dishwasher is empty and the coffee table cleared of yesterday’s clutter.

Now if I could only find what dark corner of my brain I filed all those blog posts, chapters of ‘What Line’ and the beginning of my Alaska book, I would be one happy person. As it is I’ll be running on empty all day today!

Elle

 

 

 

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About Elle Knowles

Elle Knowles lives in the Florida Panhandle with her husband and off-at-college-most-of-the-time son. She has four daughters, one son, and eleven beautiful grandchildren. 'Crossing the Line' is her first novel. The sequel 'What Line' is a work in progress. Recently published is Coffee-Drunk Or Blind - a nonfiction story of homesteading in the Alaska wilderness with her parents and four siblings, told through letters by her mother and remembered accounts from the family.

2 responses »

  1. Oh Elle, if the only the work we do while laying in bed was real! Think of all the spare time we would have.

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