Just to cement the craziness of the year, I’ve decided to participate in this year’s NaNoWriMo. I’m hoping the need to generate a daily word count will get me writing again. I feel like I need the external pressure. At first, this blog was enough pressure. It worked for a couple years, until it didn’t. I want a new challenge. I’m not sure I have anything to write. Maybe I’ll find myself slipping back into poems and musings. Whatever happens, at least I’m giving it another shot.
…to mourn the passing of Carrie Fisher.
A moment of silence on another Tuesday.
What would I do with a blog if I had one? I thought I had that figured out. That first year, it was just what I needed to get and keep me writing every day. I met my goal, posting every day day (with a few exceptions). So what happened?
I don’t know. It’s not writer’s block, at least not as I’ve experienced it before. Those times, I still wanted to write, felt connected to writing. This time, I’m just empty. I used to rely on words, build walls around myself with them. I could hide behind them for protection or lean on them for support. Even if I weren’t writing something to post, I’d journal. Words helped me figure out what I was feeling. Words helped me process those feelings, and navigate relationships, and alleviate stress. They were my release valve whenever life felt too overwhelming.
Not anymore. Not lately. I’ve tried writing a few times this month. I have several unfinished poems in my writing folder that I look at once in a while. I don’t like anything about any of them, but I haven’t deleted them. Yet. I stare at them like they’re strangers who have broken into my house. What do they want from me? Why are they here? They stare back, urging me to remember that I’m the one who invited them and left the door open. We don’t trust each other. I leave them alone in the living room and go back to sleep.
Maybe this is writer’s block. I don’t feel like a writer, though. More likely, it’s depression. Again. Still. I blame September and all its craziness for knocking me out of my orbit. Days go by without my thinking about this blog or writing at all. It’s not that I’m too busy with other things, or sick, or stuck. I’m just…not writing. Not missing it. Not thinking about it. Not trying. Not showing up.
For now, I’ll keep the blog. Maybe this—whatever it is—will clear, and I’ll find myself in love with words again. Maybe I’ll welcome the challenge and the discipline again.
Meanwhile, there’s candy. Happy Halloween.
Taking the week to enjoy my family without beating myself up. Here’s to day trips, and rain, and cookouts, and the beach. And Bass Pro Shops. It’s not vacation without a trip to Bass Pro Shops.
I stood up and declared,
“I choose love!”
Life laughed and
Threw a pie at my face.
I just edited today’s post to remove the word it from the last line. I had added and removed it several times before posting, finally leaving it in. Now it’s out again. It might reappear later today or even sometime next week (next year?)…who knows. I like it in for the rhythm, out for the meaning. Can’t make up my mind.
I have to thank my husband who, seeing me tucked up in bed this morning staring sadly at my laptop, said, “How about a limerick?”
And while I’m at it–this month’s header image is from a photo taken by my wildly talented daughter. I usually use photos I’ve taken myself, but this is one of my favorites, and she kindly gave me permission to use it.