Things that Distract one’s Focus
- The sudden and unexplainable urge to read something one has never read before.
- A broken nail that begs to be filed.
- Hair that must be plucked, brushed, tweezed, or otherwise groomed.
- The click of a pen in another room.
- The need to feed pets, children or a partner.
- The need to bathe said pets, children or partners.
- A sudden and inexplicable yearning to clean every inch of one’s house.
- The pile of laundry calling, begging to be folded.
- An old notebook found in the deep recesses of a closet.
- The sudden and startlingly shrill scream of a child.
- Especially so if that child is not injured in the least, but rather enjoying the startlement they have caused.
- The ring on one’s finger.
- The thought that one ought to be writing, but instead is doing something else.
- The thought that one ought to be doing something else, and so therefore, should not be writing.
- The glowing numbers on a clock.
- The ticking of a clock.
- The hush of rain outside.
- The hush of wind through trees outside.
- The sunshine streaming through the window.
- The blackness of the night outside one’s curtains.
- A reminder that one’s favorite program has come on.
- A reminder that one’s bills need paid.
- A sudden urge to check the mail.
- The sound of a hamster running on it’s wheel.
- The thought that you might have books to return to the library.
- A rambling search for said books.
- The library.
- The siren call of someone messaging you.
- A tangle of cords peeking out of a box.
- A new idea where one was not before.
- A new plotline for a part of the story one has not reached quite yet.
- The thought that perhaps this story isn’t worth telling after all.
- The gross misconception that one can handle writing three or more books at once.
- A sudden, undeserved pity party.
- A sudden, well-deserved pity party.
- A sudden, and entirely deserved party.
- Any sort of party, really.
- Cake.
- The Dog Park.
- One’s own thoughts.
- A game that one wants to play.
- A chore one must do.
- The irksome feeling of an unmade bed.
- The act of making a bed.
- The comfort that comes from sitting on a made bed.
- Pictures.
- Dreams.
- The look on one’s face in the mirror.
- Anything broken.
- Lights flickering.
- The ding of an appliance.
- The hum of a refrigerator.
- Eye contact.
- The reward one has set oneself for completing the act in the end.
- The idea that one must complete the act at all.
- The uncomfortable tingle of a bladder over full.
- The rush of a breeze over one’s arm.
- Anything at all can be a distraction.
- When you think about it, in the end, even what you’re writing is a distraction.
- A distraction from all of these distractions.
- The best sort of distraction is an entertaining one.
- So make your distractions entertaining.
- And then write them down.
- And share with the class.
- Who knows.
- Your distractions.
- Might become someone else’s.
- And then.
- The world will be a better place.
- Or so this one thinks, anyway.
