Baby: sleeping. Timer: set.
Brain…well…brain is sort of all over the place, but that’s par for the course these days. I’m pretty sure I forgot how hard it is to have a baby and to sleep in fits and starts and crave sugar like a mad woman (this from someone who normally craves sugar like a mad woman, which seems sort of quaint in retrospect). But who needs a fully functional brain, am I right? Rational thought is highly overrated.
I’m doing this writing challenge (Writing 101: Building A Blogging Habit) and the first day is supposed to be a brain dump, essentially. Twenty minutes of free writing. Did I mention I set the timer? Otherwise I’d be tabbing over to Facebook and getting distracted by posts from baby gear manufacturers and forgetting what I was supposed to be focusing on. I keep entering these contests to win things like play yards and high-end strollers and whatnot. It’s like some weird sort of addiction. I don’t win, but I could win, and entering is relatively easy – all it takes is signing up for a newsletter or adding a brand to my Like list. Attention has become currency. It’s bizarre, but it’s interesting, too, the way paying attention to something has worth.
And there’s something to be said for that – I’ve definitely found myself buying certain brands because I follow them on social media and like the way they come across. Probably some are brands I only followed to enter a contest. (On the other hand, I’ve unfollowed many, many other contest-entry Likes because they turned out to be annoying/religious/spammy/off-topic/whatever, so it’s by no means across the board.)
Losing the thread here. Refocusing. What was I talking about again? Free writing, guys: not as easy as it looks. (I did NaNoWriMo one year as a free writing exercise, and oh man, was that manuscript terrible. I can’t even bear to look at it. SO BAD.) (I’m pretty sure that was one of the years I won, though.)
I keep stopping, resting my fingers against the keys, feeling the grooves on the f and the j like they will tell me what to type next. Part of me wants to keep going. Just keep writing, crack open my head and dump the contents onto a page.
Most of me wants to go to sleep. The baby’s sleeping. (Sort of.) It looks like a lot of fun.
And that’s it. Twenty minutes. I could have written more if I hadn’t paused to gather my thoughts or whatever, but this isn’t too bad. 450 words, give or take. I’ll take it.