Writing with ADHD
“Just open the document.”
I open the document, at a time that feels productive—around 11am?
“Okay, now write.”
Sure, but first, have I had enough coffee? I just had some from my favorite, big mug. The one my friend was lovely enough to send all the way to Sweden. Should I call her? No, she’s at a conference, right now. I hope she’s having a good time. Speaking of packages, I should get to PostNord and mail that package to my other friend. Why have I waited so long to send it? I could literally walk to the store right now. What’s her address again? Lemme send her a text. No, lemme just search our chat. Oh, notification from Threads…
“Just go get more coffee.”
I go to the kitchen and microwave more coffee, two minutes. I should clean the counter. I should probably eat something. I should clean first so the cooking can begin. Bacon? We’re running out of eggs… Why are we eating so many eggs? Google benefits of eggs later. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. I quickly turn the microwave off because the beeping is annoying. Just gonna quickly clean this counter, and I’ll eat something later. Might as well run the dishwasher. Oh, wait, I need to collect all the cups, glasses, and his mugs around the apartment. It’s too quiet in here, I need some music… I turn on a playlist of upbeat songs—another Threads notification. I comment, scroll, block an inane hot-take about read/writing/publishing.
“Gimmethebridgenow, gimmethebridgenow!—dun, dun da da da da dum dum dum! I feel like bustin’ loose, bustin’ loose. Bustin’ loose in the meantime, bustin’ loose make you feel fine…”
Quick dance to get the jitters out.
I need to buy more dishwasher pods. Okay, dishes are washing. I’m going back to my computer. It’s time to write something. I don’t remember where I was going with this last sentence, so I need to reread this chapter. Lemme just get back in the feel of this character. Do I need this sex scene right here though—
“Someday somebody’s gonna make you wanna turn around and goodbye! Until then, baby, are you gonna let em hold you down and make you cry?”
Pause to sing.
HOLD ON FOR ONE MORE DAY!
Did they make Carnie wear that black blazer on the beach? What was wardrobe thinking? I know she was hot. We cannot go back to a time before Body Positivity. I won’t wear low-rise jeans again. It’s actually getting hot in here.
I open the windows to my room and the living room to ensure cross-ventilation. I bemoan living in a country without AC, without screens on the windows, so all the bugs can fly in an buzz my face while I’m trying to relax. BEES?? BEADS!! BEADS??
And then I go back to the microwave where I forgot the coffee. My phone rings and it’s my sister. “No, girl! I’m not busy. What’s up?” We talk about the family, the weather, what we’re watching, what we should be watching, and then we let each other go with an “alright then… I’ll get you later.”
45 minutes later—I’m so hungry I could pass out. Bacon? We’re running out of eggs. I should leave the last two for his breakfast tomorrow, or I could text him to bring home more? Bacon sandwich? I can’t decide. I don’t feel like cooking. There’s a vanilla yogurt in the fridge, but I think I hate yogurt today. The very idea of yogurt makes me sick. Why did I buy so much yogurt? Chips, it is!
I take the chips back to my computer.
“Okay, now write.”
Except, I won’t write. I’ll let myself drift off to Peter Cetera’s “Glory of Love,” before reminding myself that it’s from The Karate Kid soundtrack, and 1984 was a good year for movies. Is The Karate Kid available on any of the five streaming platforms I pay for? No, it’s not. Why am I paying all of this money for streaming, if I can’t find the movies I love? Could I stand to get rid of one of these? Not HBO, not yet. It has all my TLC shows. Maybe I’ll just put an episode of Hoarders on in the background while I write. Hoarders always makes me feel better about my own clutter… but maybe I should go ahead and clean my desk anyway.
“Just a knight in shining armor, from a long time ago! Just in time I will save the day, take you to my castle far awaaay…”
My coffee has gone cold.
Suddenly, it’s 3:00 pm and twirling in my chair, wondering what’s wrong with my brain. Why am I cursed to fixate on the films of 1984? And then the guilt sets in, because why am I not productive? I want to be like the writers who get started in the morning, eat lunch at a reasonable time, maybe take a walk to draw inspiration from the outdoors. Instead, I’m a chaos gremlin with a messy desk.
“Take a deep breath.”
“Look at your books on that shelf.”
“You wrote them with this brain. Late into the night, on deadline, listening to one song you were obsessed with. That book, right there—something by Hozier. And that book? Something on the Wolfman soundtrack. You know how to write a book. You’ve done it before.”
Breathe…
Breathe, again…
I step away from the computer and forgive myself. It’s not going to happen right now, or even today. It might happen at 11:00 pm when the apartment is quiet, or it might not. The point is, I know how to write a book. I’ve done it before.
“Gimmethebridgenow, gimmethebridgenow!”
This pretty much sums up my morning, except add listening to political videos in the background of trying to do other things and failing at both. *sigh* With everything else going on in my world right now, FAFO video listening is a comfort listen. But also, it derails my brain.