Monday, September 14, 2015
I’m leaving the best for last in following my Ten Things I do to create a Hell Yes day. Blogging every day with the strong hope of multi-blog days. Since this is a new behavior, I’ve not been very good in creating this habit.
I didn’t count into August, but I’m amazed that I have blogged every day in September, and the feeling is fantastic.
Are there any readers who can relate? Who have wanted to write every day, but something always seems to get in the way, like all of the things we have to do in this live. I really ought to be taking the garbage out or cleaning the house. I started vacuuming last night, but only did part of the kitchen. I can’t remember if the interrupter was Sudoku racing or figuring out insurance forms, but something distracted me from doing one of my favorite activities.
Is there anyone out there who get hung up on not having anything to write about? I know this feeling. I’ve had these thoughts off and on from when I first began writing today’s blog. Most of the time I come up with something to write almost right away. And sometimes I get distracted, as I was today, and my idea evaporates, as it did, and I am back to step one: have faith that something will come up.
Even if I write about how I have the Birds playing the Birds on the big screen in the first game for Monday Night Football. I would have missed this early game on ESPN between the Eagles and the Falcons if I hadn’t scanned the Register-Guard’s sport’s section. To my right, on my Samsung tablet I have the Red Sox playing more birds, the Orioles. Baltimore is in contention; whereas, the Boston Red Sox are just waiting for the season to technically end. For my beloved Red Sox, their season ended almost immediately after it started, and it started so well, too. But a week or two in a marathon season doesn’t matter; the reverse is also true. Technically, there are more games left to play than the Red Sox need to catch up, but there are too many other teams to make that even a valid component to the mathematical equation.
While watching football, which is muted, and baseball, not muted, I have Yang Cat on my lap; she’s gently kneading my left forearm. Sometimes she shifts and hits something on the laptop, causing my cursor to jump to a different place in the text, and if I am not paying attention, I could be inserting text in places that will cause some confusion. I don’t think this has happened, but since I don’t re-read my blog before I send it, you will know sooner than I.
So, what do you think about this philosophy of not re-reading my copy before I send it off to you? I know I have had typos and sentence structure failures as I have grimaced upon seeing them, knowing I let something out that’s not perfect.
I’m hoping that these things don’t turn you off and conclude that I can’t write and am not worthy of reading. Oh, I’m just going through one of those melancholy moods when I think about the lack of responses. In a minute or two, that mood will change. I will remind myself that by writing every day in September is what I am proud off. I never promised a perfect product. I have to problem creating a perfect product, but I’m also okay with my ripping out a stream of consciousness piece and calling it good. This is after spending so many years of writing and rewriting and rewriting and so on and those pieces of writing have never been seen by anyone but myself.
I imagine after I get the willingness to share my naked drafts, I’ll shift into the editing mode because I will be submitting something to be published, and then of course I’ll dress my stories up.
So, if that’s what is holding you up from blogging or letter-writing, you aren’t confident in your writing skills, well it’s time to drop the gloves and stop fighting it. Get the words on paper. That’s the first step. I did this step for thirty something years. And then share it in the form of a letter or a blog. Set it free. I figure that if someone stops reading my work because I spelled spaghetti wrong, that’s okay.
Well, the garbage needs to go out. Dogs need to be fed. I don’t want to disturb Yang Cat on my lap, but…Well, I can’t go now. Rusney Castillo has ducks on the pond with the bases loaded, and the Sox got lucky in not hitting into a double play. Swihart, the catcher has the bases loaded, but also has the pressure of having two outs. Two outs. Two strikes. Two balls, and two runs would put the Red Sox ahead by a run. The rookie hits the ball into a routine fly ball. Darn. Now I have no excuse but to appease Abby the Labby Number Nine, except now she’s whimpering and I don’t want to reward her with dinner to say this behavior is acceptable. Okay, I’ve waited long enough. Good night.