As I wander through life pretending to be a writer (how does one define a writer anyway?), I often find that my wanderings are frequently made more dangerous by the writer-ing part. I once wrote on my other blog on some lessons I learned quickly as I started really buckling down and assuming the writer role … well learned may be the wrong choice of words since I still make the same mistakes it seems.
Now that I am working on three blogs (though one is a photo blog so "writing" is not quite it), two books, and some side projects all involving the random use of my mind and words, I find that I am often thinking in writer-ese, and not really properly focussing on the world around me.
Actually it is pretty much a bad idea even deep down.
Fortunately, I have yet to be hit by a bus, but that is probably more due to a severe lack of busses in my area … and the fact that I rarely go out into the scary world these days. But any of that could change any moment! Right now the biggest danger I face is expanding my already over extended waistline, and overstimulation of my laugh organ.
It is not unoften that, in an effort to stretch stiff muscles and stave off writer’s butt, I will find myself pacing in the kitchen, thinking about whatever I am writing … to be suddenly aware that I am also munching on something that is most definitely NOT on any dietitians "must eat" list. My sister is writing herself thinner … among other things. I seem to be doing the exact opposite. The writer’s diet is definitely not one that works for me!
But it really came home to me that I am still doing this when I was doing the very mundane task of bringing the barrel back to the garage after trash pickup day. Our garage is actually separated from our house by a short distance. And our driveway is also a bit longer than the norm in the neighborhood. There I was, in my sandals with white socks (being winter and all), sweats and a warm jacket, pushing the barrel up the driveway, thinking hard about what I was going to write for this weeks 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups. I was so engrossed in my mental writing that I walked right past the garage and was halfway up the walkway to the house before I realized what I was doing. I actually OL-ed my L again. I could just envision myself trying to get the rather large barrel up the stairs and into the house under the confused stare of the Ninja Cat’s, not to mention my mother.
The real irony is the piece I came up with actually had nothing to do with what I was thinking about at the time!