A few days I reread the self-stated mission of this blog and felt a sickly sense of malachievement. Somewhere along the line (undoubtedly, it was when I realized that some of my friends were actually reading and keeping up with my posts), my focus shifted and I became less concerned with the task of pounding out my best writing for the day every day regardless of how I feel about it, and more concerned with the task of not disappointing my readers with my incapacity for consistent pizazz.
The condition is exacerbated by my recent development of a merciless case of writer's block. I simply can't seem to have a single original thought that is interesting enough to write down. I blame it on the generally uneventful nature of my life at the moment. It's all too easy to blame the former condition on the latter. And yet, when life is eventful, I excuse myself by saying that I am too busy to write.
I find myself dancing precariously close to being in violation of one of my self-imposed regulations regarding this writing project--the prohibition against berating myself in a manner that could be interpreted as "pessimistic drivel." That isn't what I want to do. It is so much contrary to what I want to do, in fact, that I just spent the last hour trying to use this paragraph as a springboard into a much more optimistic exploration of the beauties and joys of life. I wrote several paragraphs toward that effect, but, upon reading what I had written, felt immensely unsatisfied with it and forced myself to stop.
What happens to a blog when its author has writer's block? I guess we'll just have to see.
*cough*
ReplyDelete