Wednesday, May 02, 2012


For the first time in sixteen months, Wednesday is nearly over and I haven’t posted a blog entry. Such is the state of my writing life these days.

My life in general, actually. I’ve lost what little control I usually manage to maintain. I blame it on the fact that I’m on a 40-hour-a-week contract job, but deep down, I know that’s a lame excuse. How did I ever work full-time and raise two kids? I honestly don’t know. Dust coated the furniture long before Hubby started floor tile demolition in the entryway. Laundry sits unfolded in a basket. I scramble to vacuum once a week – not nearly enough with three dogs in residence. We eat out far too often because I’m simply too exhausted to come up with menus, shop for groceries, and actually cook. As a result, our healthy-eating lifestyle, so hard to adopt in the first place, has fallen apart. And my body is rebelling, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

Other writers manage to work and raise a family and keep house and produce manuscripts. These days, I can’t even squeeze out a few hundred words for a blog. The worst part is that for every day I don’t write, it’s harder to write the next day. Or the next. The empty pages stack up in my mind like a brick wall, sealing me in behind my own fears and uncertainties. I thought I discarded the notion of writer’s block, absorbed all the little tricks we writers use to keep going, but apparently not.

I’m well and truly stuck.

Well-meaning writer friends parrot my words of advice right back at me, words offered so glibly when they found themselves in similar straits: just write! One word, then another. Doesn’t matter what, just start.

So easily said, so hard to accomplish. I hope I’ll be more compassionate next time.

Until then, I guess this is a beginning of sorts, poured out in a rush of emotion in order to ease my mind, allow me to sleep.

Because Wednesday is winding down. It’s nearly midnight. I’m skipping my self-imposed one hour cooling off period between writing and posting. And with this desperate attempt to find a cause, and a cure, I’ll keep my blogging record intact.


Now to convince myself it was worthwhile. For that, tomorrow is another day.


  1. I feel the pain. Got time to get out for a drink tomorrow night? Maybe we can eat something unhealthy like pretzel bites while downing dirty treat. Bring hubby. I've finally started typing up the plot points I've been trying to make. I keep going off into details and then want more research. But I have to press forward. I have another YS story to write as well. Seems anything past a blogpost size is beyond me - snippets only. I never wait an hour to post a blog however. Then again, I'm not trying to make a point usually, except when I was writing about weight loss. I am trying to get something out. Today it's rambling about G-d. Last week it was an attempt to get inside the head of a killer (tho only one comment, not sure if I scared folks off with the one before, or this one)...the one before was more on the relationship between a master/sub/slave. I take it from the prompts, and my desire to want to go into some of those nasty places, tho I still want to be humorous, too...just trying to tickle the ivories and see if I can bang on the black keys a bit without sending everyone scurrying to protect their ears.

    1. Thanks for understanding! Tomorrow's out, unfortunately. The laying of the new floor tile begins...more dust!

      I need to find your blog...I know I saw it somewhere.

  2. Understand your paradox (dilemma?), and have been on the receiving end of your sage advice very recently. (Dreaded LY word) What I offer in return beyond a rehash of your words of wisdom is this. If not today...tomorrow, and if not tomorrow...when? okay, not advice, stupid things we say to make ourselves feel as if you've contributed to the conversation in some small way.
    I'm with Di, you need to get out and have a drink with us. She'll buy the first, the seconds on me.

    1. You guys are too good to me - thanks!


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