Checking in is Better Than . . . Not
I haven't posted anything to this blog in weeks, because (a) I suddenly got busy at work and (b) I couldn't come up with anything profound to say. Mostly it's (b). If I can't say something profound, I don't want to say anything at all. Which is why I have never finished a novel, even though I've wanted to write one since I was a kid.
I'm too hard on myself. I know that. When it comes to writing, part of my problem is that I've read so much over the years, I've been exposed to the good and the bad and the ugly in published material, and I just really, really don't want to put the bad or the ugly out there. But I'm not sure I can measure up to the standard I've set in my own head.
But I have to have something in my life other than my job. Yes, of course, I have my family and the farm, and those things are the best part of my life. But I'm talking about something in my life to do for myself other than work.
So just for the sake of saying I've done it, I'm going to try to check in here several times a week, even if I have nothing profound or witty to say. Today all I have to say is that I wrote 1500 words on my novel-in-progress this morning. Not good words; not brilliant writing. But I got words into the computer file and moved the story a little farther down the road.
Today that will be enough for me.