It has been over a month since my last post. I have never been so negligent of this thing that I supposedly love since beginning my blog over two years ago.
Stating all the so call valid reasons why I haven’t been at the key board doesn’t negate the obvious. I apparently haven’t made time for my writing. That makes me sad. I love to have written, I just hate actually doing it. The act of writing feeds into those insecurities that I clutch to my bosom, no talent, not writing anything anyone else might be interested in, poor grammar, saying what I really believe in a way that doesn’t offend my readers, are only a few of those terrors.
Writing opens a window into my soul for the discerning reader. Being the person I am, I only want them to see what I wish to reveal. That makes writing hard, so I fill up my free time with nonsense in order to avoid logging on to WordPress to create something which might interest someone.
After all the tasks that comprise each day are complete (different every day) there is surely enough time to sit down and create my blog. However, I fill those free moments with stuff, television, knitting, crocheting, sewing, reading, and the addicting Candy Crush – (the virtual crack of online games). Does it really matter if I make it to level 1006?
The time filling things I choose are really valid, and stand on their own as great pass times, but too often I wish I was writing instead; creating a piece of work that I really believe is worthwhile. In order to do this, I need to sit down, each and every day, and commit something to paper (an old fashion medium used with ink in order to relay the written word).
So dear reader, please forgive me if much of what I relate is at times sub par. I need to hone this craft which I love so that someday I may offer you, The Great American Novel.