I Blame the Chair

Hello friends! This is the real deal. An actual blog written by me... the first in ages.

Don't freak out.

Believe me, I've got all sorts of excuses for being away so long, but I'd rather blame it all on one inanimate object which will never be able to retaliate. It's cleaner that way, right? And not at all ridiculous.

Let's be honest. While I do blame the chair, I have been doing all sorts of writing. It's the publishing or letting anyone read what I've been writing, part that I've not been participating in. At least not in public. I'll have you know, I am 18,000 words deep into a young adult novel that may see the light of day at some point, but I'm in no rush. I'm trying to let it just be a fun, playful exercise, but as the word count rises, it's starting to feel like a major endeavor even though most of the time I am hand writing it with colorful pens. It looks like a unicorn threw up in my notebook. And then there's the essays. At least 15 of them outlined and waiting for final passes... this too could someday come to life... I'm feeling more accomplished now that I've put all that down. Like, maybe, I haven't been totally wasting my time. Or avoiding things like blogging. I also have a full-time job, you know.

Now it's Monday, the middle of May, and today is as good as any other to make a new start at this old blogging thing. A great day for a comeback.

So, here's the problem with the chair. It just didn't feel right. Not for writing in at least. I've listened to a lot of writers speak over the years about their writing process. I've read books on it. I've done the writing exercises... Even written them myself. There are two things that come up consistently when writers talk about their craft: creating space and discipline. I've been told countless times over the years that a writer must create a creative space... even if it means emptying out the hall closet... in order to be left alone and open to the creativity that storytelling requires. This always sounds so romantic. Mainly, because it involves two things I am especially good at: picking out furniture and rearranging said furniture. I should add a third: alone time. I am an introvert and this is how I recharge. A whole closet to myself? Yes, please.

The discipline thing is harder to swallow. It smacks of blood, sweat, and tears. No thanks. But, how else do words get written, if we are not sitting down and setting our intention and doing the work? There is a quote I love from a famous writer (who I can't think of at the moment) who said, "Writers love to have written." Past tense. In other words, Writers love to finish writing. It's this seemingly simple act of sitting down where all the work and magic and art and craft come out to play. It is so hard.

So, you can see how if the chair isn't quite right, it's just not going to happen, right?

The back was too straight. The arms to thin. The seat old and in need of new stuffing. It was cute... to look at while I was laying in my bed thinking I should really go sit over there and write because writing in bed leads to one thing: naps.

So, this weekend, I woke up and did something that tells me I might actually have the strength to jump back into this blog after all. While still in bed, I arranged to meet a woman who had the perfect used chair for sale on Craigslist. And, before I even took a shower, I picked up my cute, but useless, chair and loaded it in the back of my car. After I showered and got dressed, I drove to the Thrift store down the street and donated it. 

My new chair is pretty perfect. Leather cushions for keeping dog hair at a minimum. Wide wood arms for my teacup and my notebook or my iPad... And it rocks. It's a rocking chair.


Ladies and Gents,

This is the chair.

Also, the woman who sold this absolutely perfect for me chair happened to be from the same hometown as me. I took that as a sign... a sign that I am going to be rocking it right here.

This is Not the End,

Amie Longmire