IT

It’s there. 

I know it’s there. 

I had it a minute ago. 

It was perfect. 

It would have catapulted this puppy out into the publishing world.  It would have been repeated endlessly in casual conversations, TV commercials, maybe even a movie or two.  It would have gone down in history with “Where’s the beef?” and “I’ll be back.”

I had it; I know I did.  But then my husband came in to ask a silly question, something about a lost baseball hat.  He frets as if a stinky, dirt-rimmed cap is important.  Doesn’t he know I’ve lost it?

Then the children run in here as if they own the place.  Yes, it may be their playroom but the tiny two-foot-by-two-foot space tucked into the back corner is mine, all mine.  Still, without actual walls, the children’s voices carry in a screeching rendition of There’s a Hole in the Middle of the Sea?

A hole?  Yes, it had something to do with a hole.

A hole in his pants? 

A hole in her heart? 

No, neither sound right.

Where is it?  It was right on the tip of my fingers.  It has to be around here somewhere!

I sit and stare at the screen praying the words will miraculously type themselves there in front of my eyes.  Thirty seconds, two minutes, eight minutes and nothing, it’s gone. 

It’s gone.

I’ve lost it.

Depressed, I stumble to the kitchen to fix dinner.  All night, I morn the brilliant piece of literary work lost in a hiccup of the mind.

At two in the morning, I burst awake from my restless slumber. 

“It came back!” I cry into the darkened room.

The flashlight goes on and the pen comes out.  I ignore the groaning of my husband and write as fast as I can before it can escape again.

Ah, it’s down on paper.  I have it.

I have it!

Now I can rest, I can lay all the worry aside and enjoy a pleasant night’s sleep.  I smile and lay my head back upon the pillow. 

Within moments, the smile becomes a grimace. 

It doesn’t care that it is two in the morning. 

It brought friends.

————————————————————————

Does that sound familiar at all?

I was rummaging through my files the other day when I found that typed on a loose sheet.  I laughed and even remembered doing it.  One of those moments when nothing was working and frustrations were high–then in a moment of clarity, it would all come together–>at two a.m.

The funny thing, is that it is still true today.  After all you would think I have learned and the different ways I’ve worked to fine tune my craft, find ways and processes that work for me, it all boils down to the same thing–sometimes the words come, sometimes they don’t LOL.

What happens when you lose…it?  Does it still boil down to the same thing or have you found a way to control it and fine tune it to work for you?