word by word

I had something of a revelation today.  I was reading Anne Lamott's bird by bird and absolutely loving what a fabulously entertaining book it was.  I took comfort in the idea that I was not alone.  I experience this gripping terror whenever I need to begin a writing assignment.  I can never understand why.  I love it once I get started, even if no one else will ever read it.  The practice of simply putting my thoughts down on "paper" helps me to clarify exactly what I am thinking.  So, why do I find everything else that I can possibly do before I sit down to begin?  I don't actually have a particular affinity for folding 11-15 loads of laundry at once or spending hours with shampoos, sheers, and scissors grooming my dog.  But, I'll busy myself doing these things, justifying to myself that they are really important and need to be done, RIGHT NOW.  I wait until the very last hour, when the deadline for my assignment is looming and I am starting to panic.  Then I sit down at my computer.  The first thing I do is open Facebook and go to my Secret Group.  My sisters and my two adult nieces are then bombarded with words.  Lots and lots of them.  I recently recognized this procrastination and have just realized that it is part of my routine.  Somehow, after writing a ridiculously long paragraph and posting it to my audience of 4, I am able to start working on my assignment.  The revelation?  That Facebook post is my warm-up.  It is that exercise of simply getting some words down.  I write, read, revise, re-read, revise, write more, revise and then post.  I feel sorry for these kind ladies, so I try to write with a bit of humor and amidst my complaining and procrastinating, I try to point out some bright spots.  And that is how it starts. 

Now, if I could figure out how it ends.  My dog just came by my office and informed me with her insistent whining that she needed to be let out.  I get up, she begins to run for the stairs, she quickly comes running back to make sure that I'm still with her.  I am.  She bounds up 12 of the 14 stairs and then stops, frozen.  She is crouched down and absolutely certain that she will fall to her doom if she attempts those last two steps.  There is nothing different about them.  They are just the last two that she needs to climb before she can make her way to freedom.  But, she is stuck.  I cajole her, tell her she's a good dog, I try to entice her up the last steps with a bribe, but, nothing.  I give in, pick her up and place her gently at the top of the stairs.  She then scampers off toward the door as if the terrifying event had never happened.  I think the end of my writing assignments are those last two stairs for me.  I haven't figured out yet what is going to come along and effortlessly carry me those last couple steps to my destination.