[NB: There is a bit of navel-gazing herein, so, even if you’re excited at new content, rest assured that this one is easily skipped, even if what is said below needs to be said. For me, if not for you. Newer better content will be available shortly. No, really. It’s even already written and probably posted by now. Go look.]
I’ve been bad at blogging.
Which is obvious to anyone who keeps even half an eye on this page. (And half an eye is probably still way more eye than necessary to keep up.)
It’s not that I haven’t had bloggable thoughts. Or blogging time. Or even blogging motivation.
Therein lie some of the problem.
I keep thinking of this the way I used to think of professional writing when I wrote newspaper columns.
Partly, that’s good; it is no small thing to aspire to pro quality even, maybe especially, when working in an amateur setting.
There’s also a downside, which is that I have trouble breaking out of a certain mode of thinking: 550 words, well-thought, written for a general audience.
I forget that I can write longer, shorter; I can write for a very narrow segment of readers, or another segment, or no segment; I can fucking curse.
I can write anything I want.
If I can remember not to panic at the thought that I can write anything I want.
And I have no deadlines, so I can’t be late.
But I can’t let the lack of deadlines serve as an excuse for never turning work in.
Or delaying even starting it.
There are other issues, other anxieties, in play, too, but, short of amending my motto — “Wit ,whimsy, and ruminations … with loooong intervals between” — the only thing for them is to relax and bang out some words.