No Time To Write

I don’t have time to write anymore.

I suppose I could make the time if I really tried, but lately things like sleep and taking the time to chew my food thoroughly seem to take precedent.

So sometimes I daydream about writing.  I imagine myself sitting down in a coffee shop, wearing hipster glasses – the kind without the lenses – and as I bite into my scone, I sense the creative juices literally flowing out of my fingertips, making magic on the screen.

I don’t have time for reading anymore either, but sometimes if I pull into a parking space at the grocery store and realize Cameron is sleeping, I grab my book and read a couple pages before I go in.  This keeps my brain from going numb while I shop.

I’m obsessed the book I’m reading right now.  Donald Miller’s A Million Miles In A Thousand Years is brilliant.  In fact, I think it’s safe to say that I have an artistic crush on Donald Miller.  Sometimes I want to be his best friend because I think we’d get along perfectly and other times I just wish I could copyright all his writing as my own because I like the way he puts things.  He writes in a way that’s easy to read and instantly inspires me to ponder things that one cup of coffee can’t fuel.  This whole book so far is about story; about what makes a story great and about living a great story.  Good stuff,  I recommend it.

Well, I just compromised fifteen valuable minutes of sleep to write this.



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