By Lisa Werhan
Babe, I’m breaking up with you. I mean it this time. For real. This is goodbye. We’re through. Over. Done.
It’s not you. It’s me.
You, my dear Writing, are fascinating, noble, enigmatic, witty, and endlessly intriguing in your myriad forms and genres. Yes, Babe, you’re clearly not the problem here. I am. I’m the one who can’t keep our dates, who avoids spending time together, the one who can’t commit to meeting you on the page.
We tried. I know you had high hopes for those blush-inducing, vibrating pens—guaranteed to add pizzazz to your piece!—that were disappointing duds. Even the seductive clickety-click keyboard of the laptop didn’t spice things up enough for me to reach breath-taking, full-blown transparency.
I know you’ll suggest that I try to write something, anything, to get us back on track. But I just don’t have it in me. My blog can languish only so long before I must admit artistic defeat and hit delete. And please, please, don’t suggest inviting Muse over to brainstorm with us. Remember the last time that floozy came by? She’s such a sloppy drunk. I’m still fuming over the red wine stain in my traumatized beige carpet. It’s best not to encourage that drama queen.
I’m so sorry, Babe. I’ll be lost without you and your page-turning passion in my life. I’ve dragged you down far too long now. You’re free to court another. I hope you hook up with a real writer, a prolific writer. You know I’ve loved you since third grade, and you’re my first love, my true love. Perhaps we’ll meet again when I have an irresistible story idea to share with you, something original and clever that will sweep you off your feet.
Until then, I’ll be ghosting you. Don’t lose any sleep over my ineptness or my failure to fully embrace your creative potential. Really, this is best for both of us.
Goodbye, dear Writing.
Your Inky Boo
P.S. Hey, Babe, let’s put a pin in all that stuff I just said. I have a feature article deadline on Monday. Muse says she can come over after lunch. Be in touch as soon as you can, okay? We can break up on Tuesday. For real.
About the Writer:
Lisa Marie Werhan is a 2016 graduate of Bay Path University’s Creative Nonfiction MFA program. Her writing has appeared in print in Meat For Tea: The Valley Review and in Rock & Sling’s publication Vox II: American Identities. Her work has been published online at The Manifest-Station, Santa Fe Writers Project, and Ragazine. Lisa lives and writes in central Connecticut; her website is lisamariewerhan.com