Kitchen table

Where do I do my best writing?  At the kitchen table.  

When writer’s block hit me about three years ago (the same time as the depression) I tried to write, but it didn’t “take.”  Everything I wrote sucked.  I didn’t know how to save on the computer thumb-thingy and it wasn’t unusual to lose everything I’d written.  Technology hates me and I think it can go die a painful death.  

So I stopped writing.  Until I started taking Prozac for depression.  At first I was keeping track of any side effects; “may cause drowsiness” and “stop using if you develop a third row of teeth.”  Fortunately that didn’t happen, but something else did:  I started writing.  I write every day.  I’ve almost filled up my second journal.  

I write at the kitchen table.  

My journal is a college-lined notebook I picked up at Target for four bucks.  I use a ball point pen to print entries.  I sit at the kitchen table with my journal and a cup of coffee and write.  It’s quiet in the kitchen.  Especially when I’m the only one there.  I need quiet.  It helps settle my mind.  And the words flow.  Subjects are all over the place; how I slept, the dreams I had, the fears that bother me, how to find peace of mind, when will we pay off the credit card.  

It’s not so much where I do my best writing.  It’s how honest I am with myself when I do.  

But I still like my kitchen table.   

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