{"id":866,"date":"2017-04-17T18:47:44","date_gmt":"2017-04-17T18:47:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/?p=866"},"modified":"2025-04-21T13:40:35","modified_gmt":"2025-04-21T13:40:35","slug":"write-right-away","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2017\/04\/17\/write-right-away\/","title":{"rendered":"Write Right Away"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"OLYMPUS<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My best writing? Right about now. Unless it was earlier.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I write when it\u2019s not convenient, when I have four thousand other things that beg my attention: wash the dog, clean the shower grout, sleep-dammit-sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

The echoes of every great writer holler through the hollow halls of my brain, \u201cYou must set aside at least an hour each morning to write. A writer writes. You must hone your craft,\u201d but I\u2019m too busy trying not to slip on the wet floor on the way to my next thought.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ultimately, my dog is dirty when I write. My hair is also dirty when I write. It becomes the thing I must do, that cuts in front of the rest of my life that was totally ahead in line, tapping its feet, looking really pissed and about to call my supervisor.<\/span><\/p>\n

My mother is watching reruns of Blue Bloods in the other room when I write. I fear that roughshod phrases like \u201cGet to the alley, forthwith!\u201d and \u201cThis family was built on honor\u201d will creep into my breezy dialogues between sassy thirtysomethings arguing about the dating scene.<\/span><\/p>\n

I also fear I am writing about sassy thirtysomethings arguing about the dating scene.<\/span><\/p>\n

The car has usurped the toilet as my idea factory, when I have to actually remember what I want to write about with no laptop handy, and a story is crafted on gas receipts and iPhone voice memos.<\/span><\/p>\n

The writing sidles up to me, taps me on the shoulder, and when I turn, it clonks me on the head, drags me to its lair, and feeds me grapes while I question whether this is a healthy relationship.<\/span><\/p>\n

Of course it is. I get grapes.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 \u00a0 My best writing? Right about now. Unless it was earlier.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":true,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-866","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7zCq3-dY","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":356,"url":"https:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2016\/07\/19\/the-fine-art-of-not-writing\/","url_meta":{"origin":866,"position":0},"title":"The Fine Art Of Not Writing","author":"Gary Gladstone","date":"July 19, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0Gary Gladstone Today I will write more because last week I let a million distractions keep me from actually hitting the keys. 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Arriving at accident scenes often ahead of the police, I was exposed to some raw suffering. But somehow I remained unemotional and was able to continue shooting pictures to complete my assignment. Some of the worst of what I\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Non-fictions"","block_context":{"text":"Non-fictions","link":"https:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/contents\/submissions\/non-fictions\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"crybaby2","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/07\/crybaby2-300x286.png?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":60,"url":"https:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2016\/04\/25\/hooker-3-woo-eee-dont-do-that\/","url_meta":{"origin":866,"position":3},"title":"Hooker #3, \u201cWoo-eee! Don\u2019t Do That!\u201d","author":"Gary Gladstone","date":"April 25, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0Gary Gladstone I can list four hookers I\u2019ve bumped into in my lifetime. As I write these memoirs, one sticks out especially in my mind. She is hooker number three. In 1967 I\u2019m 32 and the rare Manhattan resident who actually keeps a car garaged in the city.\u00a0 It\u2019s expensive\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Memoir"","block_context":{"text":"Memoir","link":"https:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/memoir\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Screen Shot 2016-04-09 at 6.05.00 PM","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/04\/screen-shot-2016-04-09-at-6-05-00-pm.jpeg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":1028,"url":"https:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2019\/04\/27\/for-lack-of-a-hat-part-iii\/","url_meta":{"origin":866,"position":4},"title":"For Lack of a Hat Part III","author":"L Dewender","date":"April 27, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0 Lady feels liberated. 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Your body structures and sustains memories, emotions and perceptions. When it dies, all is lost.\u201d Because I know Aillen so well, I sense his smiling beyond the speaker-phone, \u201cEthan, you know about quantum mechanics and quantum computers. 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