I need it
Twenty years in the Navy, my peon years spent making the extra thick coffee for the Chief Petty Officers, the last four as a Chief Petty Officer, but not once drinking the stereotypical Lifeblood of the Navy. Now, I need it. Every single day. Extra strong, extra thick.
I especially crave the caffeinated chrism this morning because I fell asleep way too late (the kids camped in the yard last night), slept like crap in the living room lounge chair (to stop chainsaw killers from getting to the kids first), and woke way too early (the neighbor’s rooster and text messages from my mom).
I made a seven cup pot as my wish was to be alive and alert for my second writer’s support group this afternoon (at a coffee shop…go figure). This meeting is important for two reasons: writing support and mental support.
I especially crave the caffeinated chrism this morning because I fell asleep way too late (the kids camped in the yard last night), slept like crap in the living room lounge chair (to stop chainsaw killers from getting to the kids first), and woke way too early (the neighbor’s rooster and text messages from my mom).
I made a seven cup pot as my wish was to be alive and alert for my second writer’s support group this afternoon (at a coffee shop…go figure). This meeting is important for two reasons: writing support and mental support.
When I met these men and women (all ages, most published, some not) last Wednesday for the first time, they didn’t once reinforce my own too frequent, discouraging thoughts:
“What makes you think you can write?”
“What makes you think anyone wants to read what you wrote?”
“Just because your (A. College professors B. Aunt Carol C. Grandfather the Newspaper Editor D. All of the above) said you should write, doesn’t mean you should!”
“You never finish anything!”
Nope…I walked in and they said, “Who are you and what do you write? Have a seat and join us.” No judgment, no opposition. There was nothing but quiet encouragement…and I need it.