Every writer has their own Kryptonite – a weakness that derails all productivity when it comes to writing.

I’ve discovered my Kryptonite is music from my childhood – apparently I am in a demographic that is attractive to folks who want me to buy their products. These people advertise using music from my way back when, which I overhear in the course of my morning routine. This “earworm” gets into my subconscious so perfidiously that the only way to exorcise it is to locate the song and listen to it all the way through. Since I usually can’t remember the artist, or name of the tune, this involves lengthy searches. These lengthy searches often turn up other tunes I haven’t heard in thirty years, so I have to listen to them too. Google and YouTube are also helpfully suggesting other tunes I may be interested in, and since I’m enthralled by my Kryptonite, I have to listen to them too. Next thing I know, the day is gone and it’s time to start the evening routine. Astute armchair psychologists will likely recognize the hyper-focus associated with ADD, and perhaps they are right. I do hyperfocus. When I’m writing, it is a wonderful place to be, completely submerged in the moment of creation, living inside the story, unaware of anything going on around me, until I come up for air (or more coffee/tea). But I can’t be there and gleaning the interweb for long-lost music at the same time. That’s why I’m blogging and not writing at this moment: I’m fighting the urge to hunt for yet another obscure bit of music. Simple, you say: just keep the TV and radio turned off. I try, but I don’t live alone, and even when I’m not in the room the tentacles of timeless tunes still reach my ears. I know, try earplugs, or enforce a blanket silence in the house. My eyes betray me too. In the early mornings, steaming cup in my hand, I browse Twitter to catch up with the night’s developments as I wait for the child to dress. (If I don’t, I’ll fall asleep again, and the child will let me sleep until lunch and thus avoid going to school – not acceptable!) Today I was reading on Twitter that a rare George Harrison demo of “It Don’t Come Easy” exists. Although the song was recorded by Ringo, it was written by George. A helpful link to the song was posted by my fellow Twit, in honor of the anniversary of the passing of Mr. Harrison, and I’m feeling the tug of musical gravity. It would be fascinating to compare the demo version with the final version… arrrgh! I need a nanny to watch over me and make sure I keep on task. In the absence of a nanny, I’m hoping the draw of the blog will overcome the siren song pulling me towards the rocks… must… be… strong… you know it don’t come easy…

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