Writers block, writers block, writers blocks.
That is all I have to blame this three and a half year absence on. Probably that. Maybe that. Could be that. Or maybe it is just some laziness, or some huge fucking self doubt that anything I wrote will have a readership. Do I need a readership? Apparently, yes.
I had already decided not to enter the contest. Because it both bores me and frightens me every single year. How hard is it really to write a complete story in 101 words or less? Really fucking hard if truth be told. And yet I write them easily as soon as I sit down, popping out at least three of them without much effort, and knowing that if I enter them, at least one will be published. Sad, but true, that I can now pick the one that will get to the final printing without any effort here either. Because, honestly, they are good. Well, at least one of them is always good. One is usually okay. One is almost always crap, but finished just the same, so entered, along with the rest. One is all I need.
And one is what I got this year. Again. Another one published. That makes at least one published every year I remembered to enter. I think the blahness of it, broke my desire to write at all. All the excitement I could muster amounted to shrugged shoulders. The word meh completely defined.
I found out yesterday that one of the stories was published. I opened the online edition and found the pages for the contest results, and poof, there it was. Black and white. Proof that I am either a good writer, or a small crap writer with a good formula. Still not sure which.
To that end, I am starting the blog again. I need to write things longer than 101 words, and write them more frequently than once a year. It has been a while since I sat down to type, and just let the words come, and have them mean something, or nothing, and not be worried about any potential audience. The blog seems the best place. Especially as the new year is about to start, and instead of feeling thrilled about being published (again), I am disappointed that it is the only thing I did. Legit. Nothing else. Not on my blog. Not in word doc. Not in my really beautiful journal. Zilch. Nada. Zero.
This is it. Day one. Writing so that I can say that I did. Maybe work on my craft more than what I did for 99.99% of 2021.
And maybe do some work on why I haven't bothered in 41 months. I know there is a reason. No idea what it is yet.
