Pacing back and forth, I finally gave in and asked, “Offspring, what are you doing?”
Perplexed, he stopped to wonder at the question. His emoji pajama bottoms were no longer dragging on the floor. It was almost as if he was trying to find an answer by staring out the window.
No longer phased by the tone, he said, “Daddy, I’m not bored but I think I am.”
I can see that his mind is grinding away at all his spontaneous thoughts. For a kid who loves to play video games and draw, he was at a standstill…well, pacing.
“I know that look.” I grabbed my car keys and went outside, leaving him to his thoughts. When I came back up, he was still pacing. “Here, child.”
“What do I do with this? I don’t feel like drawing.”
“I’m doing something that helped me in your situation. Your Grandma Guam gave me a notebook and pen when I was around your age.” I handed the items over to him, a blue composition notebook and a pen. “Just write Buddy. It’s how I got started. Just write.”
Finding a comfortable spot on his unicorn pillow his mom likes the most, the pages wrinkle open and his focus was no longer clawing at boredom. I sat back down and watched as he scribbled away on the pages.
Writing has always been therapeutic. With his face buried between the lines, I started writing myself, thus, “How to know when it’s the ‘Write Time’.”
This isn’t an article where I tell you about the historical facts on how writing originated. Let’s try this again.
When writing you should…
shit. I’m confident that there are articles that know all there is to write and what to write about. Damn it. One more time.
This is what I mean. Writing itself is an art. An art that has been used time and time again. We convey our thoughts between two blue lines and hope that it sounds just as cool as it did in our minds. (There, that’s a little better)
From free writing to structured ideas, the possibilities are endless. It doesn’t even have to be in a notebook. I’ve known people to have written on napkins, walls, their hands—the weirdest one was on a toilet paper roll. Seriously. (Leave a comment on what you wrote on that was unique)
Our minds are constantly going. Authors, writers, and poets have compared the mind, one way or another, to a river or stream. Personally, I find this to be funny. The fact that our minds are like rivers or streams suggests that it’s clear, perfect, and tranquil.
Sorry man, if that were the case, then my mind would be a river or stream after a storm swept through. Trees and debris floating down rapidly. The water clouded and murky.
Despite my own opinion, it is like a river or stream. It may not be perfect, but the ideas and inspirations are what either jump out of it or mosey itself down ever so leisurely.
For everyone, we need an outlet. It also doesn’t hurt to have a friend or someone close to go along with you. Hmm…writing.
Writing is and will always be a friend. I can write about anything that my mind wants to write. No judgement. Nobody gets offended. And, it relieves stress.
When we call a friend to just chat, we vent and in return, must hear what the other has to say. With writing in a journal, you can let everything out and not expect an answer to a rhetoric question or statement. Dreams, failures, what-if’s—you get the idea. Along the way, when you look back on those pages, you realize something.
- You wrote it at a time where you were on top of the world or at its lowest point
- You survived whatever ordeal you had going on at “That Moment”
- You were able to let out that frustration that hindered you or celebrated a victory you think others would find silly.
- And last, your soul was able to talk to you about their feelings through your words
After writing this, I looked over at Offspring, still on his unicorn, and was fast asleep. I couldn’t help myself but marvel at how peaceful he looked. It was like the problem he was having had been locked away in between those lines of that notebook.
So, when is the “Right Time” to have a “Write Time?” Honestly, that’s not for me to decide. Whenever you think it’s right—write.