Marrying George Clooney

oh good god.
there are things, many, that i am not good at.
haiku being one of them.
but somehow when it’s in the middle of the night, i don’t fret like i do during the day. i don’t wonder or worry or care so much.
i’m in a stuper. so, i jot down something…

trying to decide what it is i really want to write about next. i think all writers go through a similar worry/fear/wonder.
mostly it comes from thinking you’re writing for someone else. approval. that’s a big one. what would my publisher like, what would my agent like, my editor? my husband? my friends?
should i write a mother/daughter story? the end of love affair?
a woman waiting in a hotel room for her lover to show up? a woman who realizes she’s no longer happy and wants to explore life?

a coloring book?
a pop up book?
a diary?

i wait for the moment that i get to say AH.
and then i think, i hope to god i’m not on the phone or fidgeting on facebook when that moment comes. i hope i can hear it, and pay attention to it loudly and clearly and be ready to jump in.