Write Until It Burns( Cont’ d) the last drop of brandy from my glass. I contemplated getting a bit more. No! That would mean stopping. I decided to push ahead without it.
Tap. Tap. Tap. More words poured from my mind onto the digital page. I pushed myself to write as fast as I could. It was one of my most productive sessions. But I wanted more.
Then... three AM! Bam! I hit my goal! I stood from the chair and stretched. I was proud of the night. I walked over to at the fire pit. I watched the flames dance across the rocks.
I scanned the yard for Lacie. Quietly, I called out for her. At first, I couldn’ t find her. Then, something made me turn, She was behind me, standing at the patio door. There was something hanging from her mouth. As I drew closer, I saw what it was. A small rodent she’ d brought back as a souvenir. Yuck!
“ Oh no! You’ re not bringing that into the house!” I made her drop it, then opened the door to let her inside. I quickly disposed of the poor little being as Lacie stared sadly at me through the glass.
I entered and went immediately to the guest bathroom to wash my hands. Thoroughly! It was then I began to notice stinging feeling on my calf. After I dried my hands, I felt my calf. What was that?
I almost bent myself like a pretzel to see if I could get a look. I did. A portion of my skin was no longer there. About the size of two quarters. It had been rubbed off. What the …? I thought about how it could have happened. Then, it came to me. The habit. This habit I’ ve had since childhood. Whether I ' m engrossed in a conversation or lost in thought, my knee will rhythmically bounce up and down. It seems out of my control. It simply does it on its own.
It drove my mom crazy. Sometimes I’ d do it so vigorously at the dining room table, a light pinging sound could be heard from her china cabinet. No matter how much she tried, she could never break me of it.“ Larry, stop!” she’ d say. I would, but it would start up a few minutes later. I was so focused on my writing my bare calf rubbed against the steel frame, I didn’ t notice what was happening. Crazy! I no longer have that house. But I do have that habit. That event has become a powerful metaphor. Write until it burns! Focus and write! Like nothing else matters. It’ s all about the words. It ' s all about the story. No gain without pain, right?
.”
WRITERS’ TRICKS OF THE TRADE
PAGE 13
FALL 2017