the itch you can’t scratch.

How to write: sit at desk. Look pained, as if you have a spastic colon. Feel deep self pity, & rage. Resent everyone. Then, bitterly, begin.

-Anne Lamott, via Twitter, succinctly captures my own experience in a few words, just as she does for so many, so often.


I’ve been writing a lot again, of my own volition instead of just for work. It’s been wonderfully  nostalgic to feel that compulsion to write, the need to create something. I’ve played my guitar nearly every day, and written something every week for over a month. It’s been amazing, and I’m really excited to be in this place, but…it’s also been kind of awful. I don’t have much free time during the day, so any time I’m writing and playing, it’s at the expense of something else. My house vacillates between being cluttered and being downright in shambles every few days, the laundry is piled up, not to mention the dishes, and some days the kids watch way more tv than I think is probably best. I write in five minute bursts, leaving my guitar on the kitchen table to go grab snacks for the kids, or to quell some minor disaster in the making (like beer bottle bowling–totally happened the other day. I have a genius for a three year old daughter). These things are minor hiccups, looked on with as much affection as annoyance even now and, I suspect, even more in the future. The worst part is the state of my emotions as I attempt to reimmerse myself into the habit of writing. It’s not been graceful immersion, more like a slipped-on-a-banana-peel-all-limbs-flailing-descent into the depths of artistic expression.

I’m definitely in the angst-ridden, self-critical stage during which I consider everything I play or write and feel deep, deep loathing. It is not fun. In my experience, though, the more disgust I feel when I begin, the greater the payoff when I make it through to the other side. Whether I gain some ability, or end up with a song I love, I think something great is going to come out of this.

It’s been radio silent over here for a little while, and that’s due to an overabundance of thoughts rather than a lack of them. I hope to begin writing here again, too. Soon.


Author: rebekahkayosborn

I am attempting to capture the events, non-events, and thoughts about each, as they occur in the increasing busy-ness of life. As my professors always said "You might want to write this down." Who knows what could turn out to be important?

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