and perfect (pretend) writing world
In pretend writing world, I sit at my lovely, large ornate, yet minimalistic (not messy!) desk. There’s a Pinterest worthy bookcase in the background, a small stack of hip coffee table books acting as my laptop stand, and a beautiful bunch of always-fresh-roses in a glass round vase. The type you’d see on Karen’s desk in Will & Grace.
I’m barefoot (of course) with one leg tucked under the other leg, which is dangling comfortably off the chair in well-cut fitted jeans (without a stretchy waistband). And even in THIS classic mag photoshoot position in THESE jeans (without a stretchy waistband) I feel comfy.
My feet look gorge and tanned with a splash of colour on my nails. That “funny bunny” colour that everyone gets. And my top is bright and cheery. You would LOVE it. It’s well fitted and forgiving in all the right places.
My hair’s shiny and flowing and not at all annoying or getting in the way or anything. I defo don’t have it in a barely contained mess on top of my head. My chair is fit for a Kardashian. Cream and wooden and almost throne-like I guess? It fits perfectly under my desk and I certainly don’t bang my knee every time I push it in. Ergonomics doesn’t matter in made-up land. This chair is equal parts friggen gorgeous and friggen comfy.
In this fun, pretend Pinterest board in my mind, I have a best-in-class organisation system for planning and creating my writing. There’s some fancy software that organises all the scrawls into cool snazzy compartments and files I can’t even dream up! And my wall. My WALL. You should see what my pretend wall looks like. Beautifully bright post it notes all colour coordinated saying brilliant organise-y things, and genius idea starters. You can’t swing a fountain pen without something profound popping out at you on one from the comfort of my made-up wall.
My mind is clear and ideas flow easily onto the page in well-formed sentences that become well placed paragraphs. I defo don’t have the theme song of the wizard of oz playing on repeat in my mind while I debate whether the tickle in my throat is covid if THAT’s what you’re thinking. Nope, my mind’s connected to source, a higher power is feeding me magnificent ideas and sentences. I’m just the vessel, etc, etc.
Pretend world is great, isn’t it? Just a tightly ran, sparkly ship (cruise liner actually). But it’s really one perfect shot in a grueling days photo shoot with lots of make-up, lots of styling, great lighting and a team of people to create it. It’s not real. And real world is where it’s at. That’s where the magic happens. In the shitty first drafts that take lots of coming back and forth to, questioning what the flock you’re doing, real-world lighting, messy desks and messier hair.
It’s the ordinary stuff that we keep showing up for that makes for a beautiful life.
