Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been five days since my last blog post.
I haven’t been posting much lately, and worse…I haven’t been writing much lately, either. I write most posts out longhand, in a spiral notebook I keep by the bed. I have no deadlines and no overdue prompts to answer. I just feel the weight of not having posted anything. For a while, I was on quite the roll. I have four different places that I post, including this, my main blog. I started a site for NaBloPoMo, one for A River of Stones, and one for Grace in Small Things. I also have a place over at Bloggy Moms, but I’m not smart enough, or I’m just lazy enough not to figure out exactly how to work that one. For months, I would post at least one thing a day, if not two or three. Some of it was overlapping…I would put something on my main blog, and then link it over to the other sites. I had the benefit of great prompts that helped me to find a direction and off I would go.
These days, I’m having a hard time getting the writing to flow. My notebook pages have remained alarmingly blank. Even though I have no specific commitments to meet, for some reason, those white pages make me feel like I’m slacking. I’m envious of my creative friends…they have direction, and they have already formed the habit of writing regularly.
I think that the biggest problem is that I am writing for the blog, rather than for myself. I am aware that I have friends out there that read this, and are kind enough to comment on my writing. I haven’t gotten into the habit of writing for myself. By writing for myself, I mean writing in a manner that is private. Because I started this blog as a means to communicate my responses to the reverb10 prompts, I have always been writing for the public. I have to get over that notion and begin writing for me. I have to remember that I don’t have to put everything online. A notebook can be more than just a place to write drafts. It can be the final resting place for feelings, emotions, ideas and the general chaos that is in my head at any given time. I just need to write!
Part of me has worried that I’m only as good as the prompts that I answer. I follow some amazing writers. Each one has a very distinct voice and a very definite style. Some are funny, some are poetic, some are homey, some are inspiring and all make me wish to do better.
I find that I do edit myself online, as one should; but, I don’t allow the pieces that get censored online to come out anywhere else. As I’m typing this, I’m wondering what my head, my physical body and my life would be like if I were to take all of the chaos in my head and shed it onto the page…even if it never gets posted on a blog, it’s bound to do me some sort of good, right? I can only imagine that by getting that stuff out of my head, I might sleep better at night, I might have a better view of the world, and I might feel physically better. I know that there are those of you that think I’m this nice, sweet, suburban mom.
Yeah…I am…to a certain extent.
But, there’s another part of me that is a raging, opinionated, bossy bitch. Just ask my brothers. I don’t let that side off of the leash much, because I am afraid of the repercussions. I censor myself, as I know that more than just my Twitter friends read my posts. Family, friends, work acquaintances…all have found the blog and often comment to me in other arenas. Knowing that they are out there, I’m afraid to be honest with many of them, for fear of hurting their feelings, causing a fight or alienating people.
Instead, rather than post to my blogs, I’ve cried, “Writer’s Block!” All sorts of folks have weighed in with advice, the most common of which is, “Just Write!” It occurs to me, that is akin to telling an insomniac to “Close your eyes and go to sleep!” I would, if I could, dammit!
But there’s something to this…if I just write, and not worry about posting to the blog…get something on paper, and out of my head, I will eventually have more to work with for the blogs and will begin to find the direction that I want. You’ve got to throw a lot of pasta against the wall to see if something sticks.
I am suddenly understanding the idea of a journal or a diary. There’s an appeal to the idea of putting things someplace safe, that is out of my head. Bear with me, folks. I am a work in progress. I continue to be inspired and to aspire to the level of so many of you.