Here are the rules for Five Minute Friday with Lisa-Jo Baker:
Write for five minutes. Don’t stop. Just write.
Don’t edit. Don’t say, “This is just awful. Why would anyone have a heart to read this?” (I never say that. I just start to and then sigh and look out the window instead.)
Don’t edit. Even when done.
Push “Publish” with happy flourish and step-ball-kick out the door.
Today’s theme: MESSENGER
I kinda love this and hate it. I love it because… I have five minutes. I DO. It’s awesome. I don’t have much more than that because I am traveling with the boys, and they are with their grandpa, and it’s only so long before I gotta unstick myself from my Starbucks leather chair, sigh heavily, and return to them.
I hate it because of the “No editing” part. I am farrrrrrr too neurotic to embrace this sort of frivolity. I mean, this is WRITING. It’s serious stuff and must be perfect at all times.
Except, when… Well, last week I had to get to a Tball game and both children have somehow slathered themselves with sun screen (not a problem) AND mud (problem) and one of them… Well, one of them smells just plain off, like cottage cheese off, (mysterious and slightly troubling, but I could ignore it) and the other is crying because he lost the weally weally super special handcuffs from his Wego policeman set (this will be a big problem later, so I am smart enough to aim for proactive and grudgingly look for handcuffs. Yes, handcuffs. Legos? You have a sick sense of humor, I tell you) and I just POST something and later read at least three typos, one of which is the IMPROPER USE OF ITS VS. IT’S, which, as all English teachers know, is the same as reciting Bloody Mary in the mirror at midnight. It’s MESSING WITH SATAN, I TELL YOU.
And, I overused (even for ME) my capitals and also had one annoying sentence where I totally didn’t even know what I was trying to SAY and heck, this post is a MESS.
And I thought, “Good lord, my readers are going to think I’m trying to give all the English teachers heart attacks or something… those that read me. Poor dears. We all know, every time someone uses they’re/their/there incorrectly, an English teacher ends up teaching summer school.”
But then, the five year old had lost his key to the jail for his Wego policeman and possibly his teeny tiny taser and I had to help because DIS IS WEARLLY SPECIAL TO MEEEE, and I cannot ignore the blonde hair/big brown eyed / hands clasped combo package of pleading that he specializes in. Plus, they’re is this:
So, no editing. Post stayed all wonky. But you know? I re-read it and I still smiled. The message was there. My ideas and my intent? All their. I wanted to make someone laugh, and I am pretty sure I succeeded.
My message often times circles back and ends up being for me. And this time, my messenger heard this:
Write. Every day. For you. For your readers too. But write it all out and then, write some more.
(And thank you, Lord, for automatic spell-check.)
*The lawyer would like to point out that I did change tenses like a makajillion times in this post. I respond without quote marks and with a flourish of my new found love for not spelling: its too late! I pushed publish! go drink a latte on me at the Starbucks and simmer down.