I have been asleep. My characters don't want to talk to me because I'm mean and ornery. (It's the silent treatment.) My creative pixies have moved out with their little hobo bindle sticks slung over their shoulders. I've been alone (which has nothing to do with the amount of people around me).
I must have been exposed to some, soul sucking, creativity sucking, sleeping gas. I felt like I was in a fog. This was the fog of Great Expectations, and it lulled me into a sleep from which I was unable to wake for many days.
What is this fog? It is when I am moving along at a great pace, proud of myself for how much I'm getting done when the looming deadline (self-imposed or not) lifts is head over the edge of the cliff I'm standing on and stares at me with beady eyes. It asks, "When are you going to get done?" I don't have an answer. The doubts set in, which is a perfect time for this disembodied head to blow the dust of Great Expectation over me.
The breezes I feel...
Expectation: I'll have extra time this weekend.
Wake Up: No. You have a needy toddler to take care of and chores to get finished.
Expectation: Vacation ahead - loads of time for being creative.
Wake Up: Nope. You are a slave to family, friends, itineraries and/or travel schedules that allow you no peace and very little time to think.
Great Expectation: I'll make the time by getting up early and staying up late.
Wake Up: Hell No! The toddler cries in the middle of the night, doesn't sleep and by the time the next evening is here you are exhausted.
It's a rolling cloud that blocks out all the light.
You and I are the light. The creative light resides in all of us - nothing can really block it.
Wake UP: This will pass.
Wake up: Each day is a new day.
I'm awake. It is time to create, expectations be damned.
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