1st Draft

The eraser leaves little greasy bits on the page. One spot overly corrected rips through to the page underneath, exposing the doodles of the day before. Circles, flowers and a Tic Tac Toe game that I played against myself and lost.

My coffee has little black specks swimming around it. Dark nits of coffee against a mocha colored ocean. I take a long drink and wait for the promised rush of energy to take over. Maybe I should start taking my coffee black, stop watering the effect down. I contemplate this for awhile and turn back to my writing. I see that coffee splashes have been added to the tired page. I am not a swearer, but a few choice words bounce about inside my head at that moment.... Frustrated, is all.

The phone rings and it is the neighbor down the street. She is a lonely old woman. The kids don’t visit her, her cat has sprayed the sliding glass screen door again, and she goes on and on with various descriptions of bodily functions that one really shouldn’t share with another living human being. I am back to doodling.

Thirty minutes later, my neck in a permanent crook from holding the phone on my shoulder, she hears someone at her door. “It’s those nice people that come by and talk about the bible with me dearie, gotta go.” I go and close and lock my front door. Nobody home here.

Now where was I? Determined to make some headway I add another X to my chicken scratch doodle page and lose another game against myself. Perfect.

More for the eraser than for the sharpened tip, I take a fresh pencil out of last years coffee mug. That cup was my favorite until I dropped it and the handle fell off. Contemplating the peaceful scenery of painted roses and bluebirds, I get lost in the delicate beauty of the artist’s rendering of nature and come back to the reality of the moment as the sharp pencil I am putting away over my right ear misses the mark and not only leaves a badly drawn line but a few drops of blood as well. Ouch! I grab a tissue and dap at the bright splotch that has landed on my paper.

Blot, don’t smear. Write! Write anything! Just put the pencil to paper and go.

There once was a man from Nantucket….

07/15/2005

Posted on 07/15/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith