Today I have to admit that I stink at blogging. I started with good intentions…maybe a blog a week? I didn’t think that was too ambitious. It’s now been over a month and nothing. Nada. No insight, no nonsensical babbling, nothing. So, my August resolution has become “A Blog a Month.” I’m starting small. I think I can do it. I hope I can do it.
I’m not sure why it’s been so hard. I write every day and not always just on my current novel. Sometimes I don’t know where the novel is going so I just write for the sake of writing. It helps. Writing something—anything—I’ve found, has the effect of communicating to my brain that it’s time to work. The other day I wrote about a mom who becomes so frustrated with her kids’ inability (Hah! Inability, my foot!) to clean up after themselves that she takes a job at the local liquor store where she runs the store’s wine tasting events. She then tells her kids she is no longer able to clean up after them as she is a working woman and far to busy to pick up dirty socks and empty soda cans. They are going to have to do it themselves or live with the consequences. The kids don’t believe her but since the liquor store is walking distance from her house and isn’t always that busy and those wine bottles are open anyway…well, she no longer cares about dirty socks and empty cans.
Suffice it to say the story was ridiculous (and not at all personal!) but, somewhere in there, I found the answer I was looking for in my current plot. So, if I’m writing anyway, why can’t I seem to put together a blog entry? I don’t have a good answer. Maybe I feel like it needs to be of better quality? Maybe I think it needs to be earth-shattering in its message? I don’t know. What I do know is I just need to do it. And I will. I hope.
I’m not sure why it’s been so hard. I write every day and not always just on my current novel. Sometimes I don’t know where the novel is going so I just write for the sake of writing. It helps. Writing something—anything—I’ve found, has the effect of communicating to my brain that it’s time to work. The other day I wrote about a mom who becomes so frustrated with her kids’ inability (Hah! Inability, my foot!) to clean up after themselves that she takes a job at the local liquor store where she runs the store’s wine tasting events. She then tells her kids she is no longer able to clean up after them as she is a working woman and far to busy to pick up dirty socks and empty soda cans. They are going to have to do it themselves or live with the consequences. The kids don’t believe her but since the liquor store is walking distance from her house and isn’t always that busy and those wine bottles are open anyway…well, she no longer cares about dirty socks and empty cans.
Suffice it to say the story was ridiculous (and not at all personal!) but, somewhere in there, I found the answer I was looking for in my current plot. So, if I’m writing anyway, why can’t I seem to put together a blog entry? I don’t have a good answer. Maybe I feel like it needs to be of better quality? Maybe I think it needs to be earth-shattering in its message? I don’t know. What I do know is I just need to do it. And I will. I hope.
RSS Feed