it is time

i need a typewriter ribbon.
i am reading On Writing, and i need to be writing.
it figures that, the first time i feel the need to do anything, let alone write, i can't. don't even talk to me about longhand. i need the clack of the keys and the satisfying lines of font.
i went to staples and priced typewriter ribbons as soon as the grumbling habit stretched its limbs, but i am too broke. i don't get paid til friday.
i am terrified that i'll have forgotten by friday.

something else i am terrified by:
i suppose that stephen king is my idol now... sitting on the judges' panel, flanked by kurt vonnegut and john irving. reading his book is prodding me back into my passion, and i am eternally grateful. i am impatient to start creating again... knitting is eluding me, and my doodles become scarier and scarier.
but he doesn't believe that great writing can be learned. he believes that competent writers can improve, but what does that mean? am i a competent writer?
i feel it already.

doubt.