All I wanted was some silence. I rushed across the library, my customized orthotic sneaker squeaking with every step. I tried to be quiet, but my limp seemed to advertise my presence. I slipped the laptop out of the bag, but it crashed onto the desk. The power cord followed, thudding to the floor.
It was then that I looked up and saw the army that had gathered to wash the windows. Ladders clanked against the side of the building, trucks beeped as they backed up. Squeegees joined the chorus, followed by the windshield-wiper-looking scrapers.
There is no quiet in the library today. My plan to rewrite some stories for submission has been thrown out the window. Sorry bad pun. The other folks here look up from their books to watch the workers. Okay so it’s Friday and it’s been a rather rough week, but aren’t they all?
What is it I’m supposed to be doing? Should I bite the bullet and get a boring office job, or just keep hitting the keyboard, hoping that the Divine Inspiration will show forth? Do I really have anything new to say? Ok, I do, but does anyone really want to hear it?
How to take all those incidents and accidents, emotions that I still haven’t processed and make them into a readable story that will have a meaning, a moral, a message, a proverb, an analogy, or just for fun?
Maybe I just haven’t had a Chicken Soup for the Soul kind of life. That’s okay. Lots of people don’t. I do need a little work on how to write conversation, I am a little rusty at that. On second thought, why couldn’t I write a Chicken Soup story? I can “embellish” a little…
Ringgg. The lady in the next cubicle just got a phone call. That’s not allowed in the library. But who cares? No one really comes here for quiet, do they? “This is Dawn, I’m trying to use your website, and I’m stuck, I can’t get out when I click cancel.” I don’t know, unplug it, and take the battery out of the laptop? That’s what I do.
I’m hungry. I hate being hungry, it’s so distracting. I’ll eat later, in front of the TV like life should be.
I know, I’ll write a post about why I can’t write a post today!
Happy Friday everyone!
SueAnn Porter 
Writing is, I think, about just doing it. I write every day. Sometimes it’s just rubbish, sometimes not, but writing every day is what makes a writer, not the being published or the number of people who read. Just write!
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Thanks Marie, it’s funny the posts I think are outstanding get hardly any notice, the ones I think are “rubbish” get the most likes… who can figure. It’s just a great outlet that I need right now!!
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