There are times I want to discontinue my blog, shut down my web site, and regain anonymity. During these times, I chafe under the daily grind of writing in a public venue such as the Internet. Why bother, I wonder.
Well, the public commitment forces me to write even when I don’t feel like it. And writers are notorious for lack of self-discipline. With the best of intentions, they still leave unfinished manuscripts, first drafts of outlines, and half-filled notebooks behind. I’m guilty of all the above.
When my heirs comb my possessions for pearls, they will find a plethora of oysters with nothing to show for the effort. I have old-fashioned file folders filled with manuscripts in various degrees of done-ness, all neatly alphabetized in my basement. I have even more manuscripts in the same degrees of done-ness all categorized on my computer. And I have a ton of intentions about getting back to these works and finishing them.
While I feel uninterested about writing my daily blog at times, the truth is I return to it like the famous Capistrano swallows. I’m coming up on the second anniversary of “Ten Minutes to Write, Less Time to Read” — with over 500 entries and many readers — and the longevity of it argues for its continuation.
At the same time, it’s an albatross. Yet because writing for me is like breathing, I can’t quit or I would wither. Possibly suffocate and die. While I don’t always want to take up the yoke daily, I can’t be far from it. It’s the ying and yang of writing, and if you’ve never experienced it, I only hope you’ll be sympathetic when I skip a day or two.
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