I'm Glad To Go, I Cannot Tell a Lie

I keep thinking it’ll be easier to write this, but I’m stymied. So I’m just going to start typing.

I haven’t enjoyed blogging for a while. I’m not sure why. It wasn’t until this month, when I attempted to blog every day, that I realized it. I’d start thinking about that day’s topic and I’d groan inwardly. I dreaded blogging. I’d never done that before. And when you find yourself dreading something that used to fuel you, it’s time to sit back and assess how you got here from there.

The words just don’t come like they used to. I used to use this blog to figure things out, to keep in touch with friends. But it’s become too impersonal. When you rely on something as one-sided as a blog (and I think of mine that way, though I know not everyone’s is) for communication, it takes a toll. I’ve been digging deeper into my relationships lately and I’ve been better for it. And I know who I am. I don’t need to dissect everything to find out what kind of sense it makes for me. It makes sense already. And these days I’d much rather read other people’s blogs (you know who you are) than populate my own with posts I have to drag out of myself. Readers are wise. You’d sense this. I don’t check my stats, but I’m willing to bet they’ve dropped in pace with my interest in writing, even if my posts were frequent.

I also have been censoring myself too much for my liking. I’d have one, two, three terrific ideas for posts, then I’d realize I’d have to disguise people’s names to adequately tell the story, or disguise locations. That’s too messy for me. It’s not that the stories I’d tell would be offensive; it’s just that my rights don’t extend into other people’s privacy, including my family’s. It’s a fine line to walk. Till now it’s been easy, but now it’s like moving a really heavy couch. Push. Push. Rest. I started writing in a “What I Did On My Summer Vacation” way. That’s not me. This blog has never been a diary. My life is too mundane. I want to share the “aha” moments. But lately I’m too comfortable for ahas. I’m good. Really good.

This isn’t meant to be a downer. I’m having a fabulous time right now in my life. My kids fill our world with hilarity and poignancy. My marriage is secure and comfortable. I’m finding social outlets I never knew were here. Careerwise, I’m writing pretty successfully for the amount of work I put into it. Which, frankly, is not much lately. Right now, I'm kind of sick of sentences. Period.

My appreciation for the readers who continue to click onto my site to read the words I put together runs deep. I don’t consider you lightly. For years you have provided me with an audience, which is all a writer – any writer, published or not — wants. Thank you.

My dear, longtime friend Nancy told me (I’m paraphrasing) that a novel is supported by thematic pillars, and everything that happens in that novel needs to support one of those pillars. I’ve been relating that to my life. I’m reprioritizing. I’m selecting a shortlist of things to put at the forefront of my life, and anything that doesn’t support those priorities is moving to the back burner. This blog is one of them. Spreading myself thin has always been a personal weakness, and I want to build on strength right now. I want to do a few things really well instead of a spectrum of mediocrity.

I will still be on Flickr, and I’ll still be blogging, only in a different capacity on a specific subject that is not me. I’ve also, God help me, gotten a myspace. Let me know if you want to friend me (or for me to friend you - I’m still muddling my way through the myspace TripTik).

Thanks for being here. We had a time.


ps: I have to say this: don't count out a return. I know myself well enough to know that one of my favorite things to do is make a liar out of myself. mwah.