Okay, I thought, cracking my knuckles and sitting down at the computer. It's time to write. I placed my hands over the keyboard and... nothing. I tapped my fingers lightly against the keys. Nothing.
"But... but..." I stammered. "It was right there! I had a great idea. It was right there," I lamented, grasping at the air in a feeble attempt to grab my idea. Did I dream it? I asked myself. Even if I did, I still had the idea. Now what was it? You know when this grand idea is going to come back, don't you? Right when it's too late. After I've already finished this creative writing assignment. Right as I turn it in with a horrible idea, I'll smack myself on the forehead repeatedly, and my professor will undoubtedly wonder what is wrong with me.
"Honey," I called out, hoping my husband might remember. "What was that idea I mentioned to you last night?"
"What idea?" he yelled from the kitchen.
"You know what I'm talking about. That idea I had for my creative writing class. I mentioned it to you."
"No you didn't."
"Yes I did. I was playing one of my brainstorming games, and I said 'Oh, that's a great idea,' Well, okay. So I probably actually said 'Hey, that could maybe work...' I'm never too impressed with my ideas the first go-around. So what was that idea I mentioned?"
He walked to where I was sitting. "Hun, that's all that made it out of your mouth."
"What do you mean?"
"The only thing you said was 'Hey, that could maybe work.' The actual idea? That got trapped in your head. I asked you what your idea was, though."
"Then tell me."
"You never answered me. You told me to stop bothering you so you could come up with more ideas."
"So... let me get this straight. I told you I had an idea that could work, but never mentioned the actual idea?"
"That's about it."
"Then that means..." I paused. For dramatic effect. "It's lost forever," I protested, crying out and melting to the ground in a pool of despair. "What if that idea was going to turn into my best story ever? What if it was the basis for the next best seller? No. What if it was the idea for the next best selling series?" I asked. "And now? It's gone. Gone forever. It was there, and then... 'PHHHTTTTT!'" I cried, sticking my tongue out, "Just like that, it flew away." I pounded the floor a few times. For dramatic effect.
My husband eyed me cautiously. "Have you ever considered acting?"
"Very funny," I sighed, standing up and resuming my place at the computer. "So, what do I do now?"
"You do what you always do, honey. You write from right here" he said, poking me in the chest. "You write from your heart. "
"But what if my heart is beating erratically?"
My husband rolled his eyes. "You write anyway."
"What if no one likes my heart?"
"I can assure you that won't happen."
"Because I know two who will like it for sure."
"You and my professor?"
"An A+ for effort, but you only got one right. I can't guarantee your professor will like it."
"Then..." My husband looked upward, a bemused smile on his face. "Oh! You and God."
"Yep. God directs your heart when you write. So you've got two fans no matter what."
"Thanks," I said.
A few minutes latter, I came to my husband, completed paper in hand. "Okay, Mister Editor. Have at it."
He read the paper, making some simple corrections. "I like it."
"Come on. Have confidence. When you get to class tomorrow, I want you to hand it to your professor with a smile on your face and say 'Prepare to put that red pen down, because you won't need it with this baby.'"
"Stop it," I laughed, slapping him in the head with my paper. "I think I know one of the writers' greatest challenges."
"Not knocking ourselves unconscious when we loose that idea and then it comes back just when it's too late."
My husband chuckled. "Let's get to bed, honey."
"Okay. By the way, if my professor calls tomorrow telling you to come get me because I'm slapping myself on the forehead and mumbling incoherently..."
"I'll know that evasive idea came to you at just the wrong moment."
"You've got it."
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