A Spider in My Shower
Warning: Elizabeth should not read this post. (Here’s why.)
With all the ruckus last week over whether or not I should better tend to my writer, or even whether I should allow my writer to assert a personality of its own, I thought perhaps I’d give it a go.
I mean, I’m hardly giving a fair shake to the experience The Right to Write offers if I cherry-pick which activities I’ll try, right?
So, against my better judgment, I pulled up a second chair and invited my writer to join me at the desk.
No, I did not offer it a cup of tea. And if anybody is going to get a steamy triple-shot latte at my house, it’s me. I’m not wasting a whole cuppa Caribou on any creative phantom that distracts me with ridiculous mutterings in my ear.
Maybe it was my failure to share the coffee, I don’t know. But it wasn’t working out.
I pushed away from the desk and whipped a pencil, aiming between the eyes.
You stink!
Get out of my office!
Go hit the showers!
Solitude reclaimed, I settled back in to work. But not long afterwards, I looked up to see a dripping writer reaching out from the dim shadows of my workspace with a soggy and crumpled scrap of paper.
I sighed long and read through shower-smeared ink.
Try to remember, I scowled. This is not what we do here.
::
Belly bloats
and eight legs
dangle, jet eyes
peer hollow
as I step in
Unclad, unarmed
I can only
admire
the hammock
you knit
overnight
Plush, yet
you find no
rest in its
berth
You stretch out
lacy sheets
and await
innocence
to fall in
and die
::
With that, I sent my writer out on errands and drew up a long list of chores to keep it out of my hair if it ever gets back.
I trust we’ve put that nonsense to rest now.
:: ::: ::
If you stop by here just because you’re nice to me and like to read now and then, but really don’t give two hoots about all this “talk about the writing” business, I appreciate your patience while I participate in a book club discussion Mondays on The Right to Write over at High Calling Blogs.
To join in the discussion, you might read Laura’s latest post, check out the related posts from other participants, or see previous posts in this series.
For starters:
Glynn’s Writing and Reading as Private Acts
Melo’s Day Nine
Michelle’s The Writing Life
Marilyn’s Bad Day of Writing?
L.L.’s Writing for the Lint Pickers
Monica’s Details, Details
Nancy’s Open Your Eyes
nAncY’s just.write
Erin’s Cherish the Commonplace Holy Moments
Cassandra’s Where Words Meet Bone
Photo: Spider (now squished) in my shower last week
I’m not sure what I like better — the spider poetry or the pencil-throwing tantrum with your caffeine-deprived friend.
2010/05/10 at 10:16 AM
Friend? Friend? My, but we use that word loosely.
2010/05/10 at 10:21 AM
*giggle*
I have not got a lot of time, but I had to come visit you today. You make me laugh. I love your style, Lyla. Love it.
2010/05/10 at 5:06 PM
Don’t know why no one takes me seriously . . .
2010/05/10 at 8:19 PM
Remembering your childhood arachnophobia or was it entomophobia, I’m amazed that you so calmly can talk about the squished spider in the shower. All of a sudden, you are a poet. Ogden Nash is probably looking over his shoulder.
Dad
2010/05/10 at 6:17 PM
If I remember right Dad, it was a great fear of flies that masqueraded as bees.
But whatever. No worries on more than this momentary poetry thing. I put my foot down.
2010/05/10 at 8:21 PM
OK, that looks to be a humongous spider. ack! ack! ack! This confirms one of my worst fears (in the shower with a nasty creepy thing).
You see, I’m presently on a retreat getaway with some friends; the home we are renting has a half bath off the garage for post-beach cleanup. It takes me more time to inspect all the corners for hidden critters than it does to actually shower off the day’s sand. After your post, I’m more paranoid than ever.
Excellent poem, by the way. Thanks for sharing.
2010/05/10 at 9:43 PM
Pingback: Going Deeper
You. Crack. Me. Up.
And I’m not listening to the lint picker voice that is telling me I’m frivolous for having hot chocolate with my muse! I’m just starting to enjoy this idea of special treat to inspire inspiration.
I’m exhausted, Lyla. Forgive my disjointed thoughts. Ten hours on a bus with fifth graders. I tried to write, tried to “listen”, but the neverending cycle of annoying movies blasting over the speakers wracked my concentration.
We managed a pretty good time, though. Thanks for thinking of me
2010/05/10 at 10:21 PM
i would say…that was a very fair shake!
i love it!
2010/05/10 at 10:46 PM
Erin, nothing like a shower to make one completely vulnerable to spider attack…
Thanks nAncY!
Laura, it’s not frivolous for you to do so — don’t let me sound like one of the lint pickers and cold water throwers. For me it’s a no-go. But for you, a fruitful pursuit. And back in my day, we didn’t get to watch movies on the field trip busrides…you are due for a nice cup of tea with someone invisible.
2010/05/11 at 8:20 AM
Send your writer to me at the Moonboat. I’ll give her a warm towel and a big hug and a cup of something hot — anything she wants. Oh, and she can have the round table by the window where views of blossoms hanging over a wall beckon for fancies.
Sigh. What do they teach in school, nowadays?
2010/05/11 at 3:42 PM
Oh, Cassandra, I love that. I’m schooled in politics, not the arts, so I missed that whole block of courses.
But you should know that I spoil myself pretty well. Among other indulgences, I do enjoy that steamy latte nearly every day at my desk or kitchen table (I just don’t share very well — perhaps this all illustrates my self-absorption in ways I hadn’t considered).
2010/05/11 at 3:57 PM
Ooh! Talking to an imaginary friend now…well, I’m not sure since you threw a pencil at her. You and Wyatt would get along well. “Birdie” has been living at my house for several weeks now, and I’d just assume she go out for errands and never return.
2010/05/11 at 7:36 PM
Sweetheart, you need to be nicer to your writer. They’re very fussy.
Plus, you are the spider. You must build that net, then await that innocent thought. When it’s trapped, drain it of its life, right onto the page.
2011/10/24 at 11:57 AM