I don’t have the faintest idea what I want to write about today.
It’s not for a lack of topics. This world is bursting at the seams with interesting and fantastic materials for a 500-word blog post. I could write about blackberries, for one. I could write about daffodils, Converse sneakers, classic 80s rock, independent bookstores, fresh basil plants, American politics, dogwood trees, the World Cup, feminism, chocolate-chip cookies, constellations, the Mackinac Bridge, and blue gingham dresses, to name just a few.
I’ve had plenty of adventures lately too. I could write about riding a 125-year-old elevator to the top floor of the Chicago Fine Arts Building. I could write about driving US-131 at midnight in a thunderstorm, the lightning flashing over the Grand Rapids skyline. I could write about eating lemon sorbet with my little sister in her new town. I could even write about performing the processional for a family friend’s wedding back in June.
That’s approximately one hundred words of ideas, however, and nothing substantial to show for it. For that matter, in the past few weeks, my life has seen a few developments which could inspire some writing but, to my surprise, hasn’t.
I left my job and accepted a new one. I said goodbye to coworkers who used to be a common part of my day and now are not. I’ve said au revoir to jazzy Grand Rapids, where I’ve lived and worked and attended college for the past five years. I’ve just applied for an apartment in Lansing, smack-dab in the middle of Michigan, the seat of the state legislature and Michigan State University.
Now, I’ve made it to nearly two hundred words detailing all the recent events worth telling. And still, I’ve rambled on about how I can’t compose a single sentence about anything in particular.
The hard truth about writing under some kind of deadline is that you are essentially tasked with coming up with something worthwhile to say by a specific date. What if, when that specific date arrives, you are sincerely and absolutely stumped? What if you are still processing some notable changes in your life? What if you just need more time to have a look around? What do you write about then?
You write about writer’s block, of course. Then you pour yourself a big cup of grace.
And you keep your rambling short so you can move on with your day. “Let me live, love, and say it well in sentences,” Sylvia Plath said once. Right now, I’m twenty-three and I’m still trying to figure out what I want to say. Actually, I suspect that I’ll never quite feel ready to have “something to say,” but I’m betting that if I keep myself open to the world and give myself time the sentences will someday fall into place.
477 words on the dot. Close enough.
Hannah Riffell has landed in Lansing, Michigan twenty-three years after she was born there, nineteen years after she moved to Mississippi, seven years after she moved to Northern Michigan, and two years after she graduated from a university in Grand Rapids. You probably can’t find her because she’s either exploring the state, wandering around her city, or just lost in her own head.
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That was really cute…and…I learned stuff about you. Hope you love it in Lansing!
Feeling this one, Hannah! 🙂