It's 9AM

Just a Blue Collar Author trying to earn a buck

Chris Lowry

Oct 31, 2024

☕ BUY ME A COFFEE: https://buymeacoffee.com/chrislowryw

Every now and then I fall into vapor lock.

It’s when I try to spark the creative engine, the work engine, the anything engine and Get After It, but nothing works.

I slurp down an extra cup of coffee. No dice.

I turn to favorite music, hoping something clicks.

I type out words and sentences, waiting for it to get going.

I can type up to 70 words a minute when I’m in the flow state. I’ve had days where I’ve knocked out 13,000 – 17,000 words in a story.

Maybe it’s the holidays.

Or thinking business instead of art.

I don’t consider what I do art.

I consider myself a blue collar author, which means ass in the seat, putting in the time.

I read a story about Jack Kerouac and his bennie fueled writing sessions.

Or Stephen King’s recollection of a cocaine covered 80’s.

(He doesn’t recollect, is his memory. He knows he did a lot of blow and typed all the time.)

My weakness is coffee and shiny objects.

Story ideas like the one that hit yesterday, or the one that came this morning.

It’s work, which takes a lot of energy, and kids which take more. It’s cleaning house and doing the yard, and sometimes the peopling.

It’s the same thing all of you deal with, having to decide what gets prioritized first, whether it’s being mom, being dad, taking care of fur babies, cleaning houses, driving, traffic, and all the million other little things that eat up a day.

What I think gets put down on the list is taking care of you.

There’s a whole self care movement, a subculture where people talk about how important it is to take care of yourself.

Sometimes first, but from the letters you’ve sent me, most of you do not know how to put yourself first.

You’re like me and you get added to your to do list near the bottom. Or last.

But if you’ve ever flown and actually listened to the flight attendant talk about emergency oxygen, they say “place the mask on you first” before you help anyone else.

I don’t know if I can do it, but I want you to take care of you first.

It’s Christmas Eve today, unless you are reading this on Thursday, in which case it will not be.

Or you might be in Australia and it’s tomorrow already, which means the Eve has come and gone and you’re reading me in the future.

There are little people who want you, older kids who need you, husbands and in-laws and a thousand other little things pulling on you, like invisible strands of Lilliputian stress.

This is my reminder for you to “do you.”

Go find someplace quiet and hide for a few minutes. Take in a sunset, or Christmas lights or send everyone to bed and turn on the music you like.

You deserve it. You earned it.

For my part, the house will need cleaning again tomorrow. The clothes will get dirty. The trees are bare of leaves, so there won’t be more to rake.

The words will come as they always do, inspired by whatever ether is in the atmosphere when it combines with the right combination of aspirin and caffeine or I relax just enough to ease that ache in my shoulders and let them flow.

I saw a poem this morning a fan wrote about one of my favorite series, SPACE TEAM.

It was a take on Scrooge, how the team would be if the lead character never touched their lives, and posted to the FB page

A line stuck with me about Splurt, one of the characters in the book.

I’m misquoting, but it went like this;

“We don’t know how he knows, but Splurt remembers you loved him and he misses you.”

Even now, it makes my eyes water a little (and yes, I cry at Old Yeller.)

He remembers you loved him.

I remember you.

Just remember that.