I've been wondering a lot lately why I haven't been blogging. It seems that it's an easier habit to break than I thought.
I don't stop thinking about the blog. Getting a spark of an idea, partially composing the entry in my head. Considering what would be the hook, how to flesh it out, what would be a satisfying ending. If I had only written half of the blog entries I've come up with over the past few months, this would be my most prolific year ever!
But I don't. I think the problem actually isn't my new parent status. I think it's that I've been pressuring myself lately to make my blogs less of a diary and more actual compositions. I started this blog as a way to improve my writing. Hopefully not just by writing more often, but also by writing better. Taking the time to actually revise and craft stories.
Writing stories that would get me one step better to actually getting paid to publish. Moving toward the kind of well-crafted essays that people read and completely identify with. My experiences, but with the universal marrow exposed, so everyone feels the emotions mirrored in their own lives.
But here I am. With a piddly number of posts. So instead of working on becoming a better writer, I've not been writing at all.
We're going to back to Plan A. I'm going to stop worrying so much about crafting fantastic, memorable, marrow-filled blog entries and just write.