Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
The same thing happened this year as it did last year. I was humming along, writing daily and producing. I produced daily poetry, short stories, reviews, even blog entries - then my real life exploded. And even when things began to get on an even keel, I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't concentrate, couldn't write, couldn't produce. Falling out of a writing habit is worse than falling off your diet. It's twenty times harder to get back to disciplined writing than it is to make yourself eat unappetizing food. It's easier to write down calories than a few lines of poetry. I guess that discipline and writing never seemed to go together for me. They probably do, but I have this dream of a bohemian creativity that strikes or doesn't in its own arbitrary fashion. I imagine that is just my excuse. I have no solution except to start writing. And where better to begin that in the hated blog? The blog that is avoided and shunned because it reminds me of my neglect. So, every day I will start here with some paragraph or other about nothing. No one will be expected to read it. But it's good exercise, even if it just helps me remember how to type. |