It taunts me.
It looms above me and shakes it's little fat finger at me.
It is all up there
on 18 little pieces of paper and
half of it lives inside my computer and the other
half is drowning...
But, I ignore it more and more as I write for some money and build toys for some money and play with my kids and kiss my husband and try and see family and friends and will I ever write that book?
My friend Michelle sings to me each and every time
we hear the song Galileo from the Indigo Girls
She sings a tiny part from it
She has sang it to me since college
But then again it feels like some sort of inspirationand always until lately I looked her right in the eye at a concert or the living room of someone's home drunk on red wine and sang out the lyrics loudly and proudly with her...
To let the next life off the hook
But she'll say look what I had to overcome from my last life
I think I'll write a book
but lately and I mean the last several years
I kinda look away or ignore that certain part of the song
I worry that I will be a big disappointment to not only myself
but to those who have always sang to me
Writers...Are you there?
Did it take a long time to become you?
I am a little lost today.
Last year in in October I told everyone I was going to write a book in a year.
I have failed.