On Writing

NaBloPoMo has forced me to put something in this space every day, but I don't really consider what I'm doing here writing. I'm out of practice, I can't think of anything to say half the time, and it's just filler. To be honest, I'm pretty embarrassed at how crappy some of these blog posts are.

One of my goals and hopes in participating in NaBloPoMo was to find the spark again. So far I haven't felt it, but I do feel the need to write. I have things to say (but perhaps not here) and stories within me. Somehow I've got to coax them out.

Comments

[bhd]

Keep plugging and chugging. The magic is in putting your fingers on the keyboard and typing something out - anything. Think of it as practice - you'd probably throw away your first few watercolors, yes?

Anyway, I'm reading. And enjoying.

[Margaret]

Coax away--you're doing great!

[Beth]

I hear you, darlin'. I had largely gotten away from blogging. I was damn near prolific and then my interest in it just dried up. Like my ovaries! (Badump-bump!)

So now, I only blog when I feel like I have something to say. Sometimes, that means I post on consecutive days. Other times, that means I don't post anything for a week.

Screw NaBloPoMo. The last thing a writer who writes for pleasure needs is an artificial requirement to churn out content.

I had a friend who challenged me to write 10 pages a day. Many days, I wrote 10 pages of utter crap. I told myself I was excavating my way to the good stuff by getting all that word detritus out of the way. But no, I was just writing crap.