I'm In A Writing Drought
I am in a writing drought.
This doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say, but it means I don’t know how to say what it is I’d like to say.
I don’t know how to tell you about how I saw The Barbie movie.
I don’t know how to tell you about the Chinese food I ate and how my fortune cookie read: You will attract cultured and artistic people to your home.
I don’t know how to tell you how I wanted to be with my mom in Florida for her birthday and not just celebrate her over FaceTime.
I don’t know how to tell you I miss my family and Florida and the way things were when I was four.
I don’t know how to tell you about the breakfast I had the other day with my friend, Ryan.
We sat at a little diner 100 feet from a lake with a room full of locals.
When we walked in they said hello like they knew us.
They didn’t, but they did.
That’s what I love about small town diners.
You are always welcome.
Ryan ordered an omelet.
Sausage, peppers, onions, and cheddar cheese with toast.
I had 2 scrambled eggs, a pancake, and crispy bacon.
My mom taught me to order bacon crispy.
It’s the right way to order bacon.
We both had diner coffee and I had a little too much, but somehow not enough.
I was jittery for the next few hours and that kept me in my ongoing writing drought.
I don’t know how to tell you about the teenage girl and teenage boy I see at church Sunday after Sunday.
They are in love.
I know it.
He looks at her more than the bulletin in his hands.
She is always moving her hair behind her ear as she glances at him.
They cannot wait until the part of the service where we share the peace of the Lord.
Before worship begins he will quietly whisper to her from three rows away, but last week he was only one row away from her.
I told you.
They are in love.
They don’t know this but when we get to the part of the service where we offer up prayers, I pray for them.
I don’t know their names, but God does.
“Lord, be with the boy in the blue shirt and girl in the red dress as they fall in love. Let it be awkward and beautiful. May you give him the courage to sit in the same row as her next Sunday. Amen.”
I don’t know how to tell you about the two women I sat between on a plane a few weeks ago.
How the woman to my right listened to a John Grisham book from her computer that was 10 years old.
How the woman to my left read a romance novel on her Kindle a little too slowly.
How the woman to my right sneezed and dropped her phone beneath her seat.
How the woman to my left had to get up from her seat so I could lay on the floor to grab the woman’s phone.
How the woman on my left said, “Wow, you’re so flexible” in a way that made me uncomfortable.
How the woman to my right said, “Sorry I made you do that,” but I didn’t mind.
I told her, “Well, at least we’ve got a story. I like having a good story.”
I don’t know how to tell you that on my next flight I noticed a woman who was about to lose her plane tickets.
They were sticking out of her back pocket.
When she stood up they were waving right in my face.
I tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, but I think you’re about to lose your tickets.”
How she thanked me and thanked me and thanked me and then told me, “ Something good would happen to me soon. Karma.”
I smiled and nodded.
I didn’t know what to do with what she just told me, so I just kept moving forward.
And I’m still moving forward.
I don’t know how to tell you that I’m still waiting for something good to happen to me.
I don’t know how to tell you that this summer has been hard.
I don’t know how to tell you that I am tired.
I don’t know how to tell you about a recent death and a recent tragedy and a recent email.
I don’t know how to tell you about the conversations that have broken my healing heart.
I don’t know how to tell you about our adoption process.
I don’t know how to tell you about the prayers we are praying.
I don’t know how to tell you that waiting to become parents is emotionally draining.
I don’t know how to tell you that I am still hopeful and still trusting.
I don’t know how to tell you that I need a vacation.
And I don’t know how to tell you about the sky tonight.
It is beautiful.
No words can describe it.
And that’s a good thing, because I am in a writing drought.
About the Author
Tanner Olson is an author, poet, speaker, and podcaster living in Nashville, Tennessee.
He is the author of I’m All Over the Place, As You Go, Walk A Little Slower, and Continue: Poems and Prayers of Hope.
You can find Tanner Olson’s books on Amazon.
His podcast is The Walk A Little Slower Podcast with Tanner Olson and can be found wherever you listen to podcasts.
Tanner Olson travels around the country sharing poetry, telling stories, and delivering messages of hope.
You can follow Tanner Olson on Instagram (@writtentospeak) and Facebook where you’ll daily find encouraging words of faith and hope.
