Blog follower Becky Sullivan provided us with the truth I'm going to take today - What's the worst or weirdest excuse you use to get out of writing when you have writer's block?
First, I'm going to clarify and say that I don't get writer's block. You can throw stuff at me if you want, but that's just the way it is. If my brain were a heating pad, it would always be set at H and my scalp would have third-degree burns. Luckily for my follicles, this is not the case.
But I'm going to modify the question a bit and then give you a real answer that also deals with bodily functions.
Q: What's the weirdest excuse you use to get out of writing?
A: I have to pee.
No really. I do. I probably have to pee as you're reading this. I know I had to while writing it. Peeing is one of those things that I'm able put off for quite some time without any lasting detrimental effect to my renal system. I know at least one person (ahem, RC Lewis) is going to reply to this and tell me that I AM doing damage to myself, that I simply just don't know it yet. Anyone who hangs out in the AgentQuery Connect chat room will tell you that I don't really pee that often. It appears that my bladder is roughly the size of the Hindenberg.
Also there are rich people in it.
And in using that rather crude metaphor, I have probably sealed my fate and my bladder will in fact, explode at some moment in the future. Rather unexpectedly, I'm sure.
Below you'll find screencapped proof of my refusal to pee when necessary, as well as proof that I'm often guilty of over-share.
You're probably thinking to yourself - Um... Mindy, you're kind of proving yourself wrong here. The whole point of this post is that you're supposed to share what your weirdest excuse is for not writing, but you're telling us you're perfectly capable of holding it?
Yep. Exactly my point.
If I'm getting ready to lay down (yes, long story) and write, very often I'll settle in, put my fingers to the keyboard... and run to the bathroom to relieve the tiniest of tickles. Why?
Because I'm terrified.
I'm afraid that for whatever reason, this time when I put my fingers to the keys nothing is going to come out. I'm afraid that someone flipped the cosmic heating pad switch in my brain and my little red light has been extinguished.
So far, it hasn't been true. I take the pee, my renal system looks around at the circulatory system and says, "What the hell? I hadn't even gotten started!" and I return to the keys. With an empty bladder the heat waves start rolling out of the brain without any excuses.
Maybe someday I'll learn to skip that first part, stop making the excuses and simply write.
But then my renal health might plummet.