These things aren't evil. Some are necessary and many are welcome. But they pour in, a steady stream, each demanding some form of attention, even if that attention is to scroll past or hit the delete button.
It makes a girl's head spin.
When the evening turns the sky to black velvet and the lights in the houses wink out, I put my laptop aside, power off the television, set my iPad to sleep, render my cell phone mute. Freshly washed, I slip between the sheets of my bed, the only sounds: the gentle whir of the ceiling fan and the quiet breathing of my husband deep in sleep. I settle in and reach to my bedside table for a book. A real paper-and-ink book. No more screens and no more power buttons. Just me, in the peaceful silence, and these pages.
And it is here that I can finally be still.
For the days I want to write but need that extra push, and, just as much, for the days when the prompt inspires me, all on its own, whether I need extra motivation or not.
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