I’m back. Again, for the first time…. for the last time?
This is not a challenge. This is not a practice or a game in which I become a writer by forcing myself to write by means of living up to some weekly-daily-hourly blog posting schedule.
If anything, I am writing in order to organise myself – with a bit of procrastination through in on the side. (more on procrastination in a future post, I promise.)
What does that mean? you ask. Oh, dear reader, How I have missed you.
When I started Writing The Girl back in 2011, my goal was a simple one: to write.
And then in 2014, 2015, 2016 and 2017, when I got in to the sticky cycle of stopping and starting regular blog entries again and again, my goal was the same….to write. But also, to prove to anyone who would read my words that I truly was a writer.
A Writer. Two teensy, weensy words that I ever so foolishly allowed to go to my head. Another silly little word gave I way too much importance to was PROVE. Prove that I was a writer, an adult, an artist. At the end of the day, all I was ever able to prove to myself was that trying to prove anything to anyone BUT myself was truly as useless as it sounds.
When I look back now on my posts from 2014 to 2017, I wince. I don’t even want to give those posts any of my energy with these words….so I won’t. But believe me when I tell you this, dear reader, I tried and grappled very hard with deleting most of the previous blog posts from my site with the swiftness of an executioner’s ax laden arm.
But I could not do it. I could not decapitate my words, my prose, my vulnerability and the truth as it was to me at the time I put those pixels to the screen and hit publish.
So here I am… suddenly adding to and refreshing the website I so lovingly begin to build what now seems like a lifetime ago. New pages, new thoughts, new plans, all with the confidence and knowledge that I have grown in the past 9 years. Grown, and stumbled and leapt through life, making mistakes, living, loving, bending, forgiving and mending, breaking and moving along and trying and failing in order to learn how to not give any fucks or leave any remorse in wake of my choices.
I have new goals now. I run not one, not two, but three small businesses with my partner in life and love. The kids have grown and moved on to college, to new cities, and have begun their own versions of being adults. I have three, count ’em, THREE, novels in the works.
So, what the hell – might as well start blogging again, right? The Creative in my soul is too big, too important to keep under wraps. So off I go…. all my passions. Musings. Truths.