Here’s the thing, I love writing over here. This space was
my first internet presence that was truly me. No filter, no holding back.
But that was back when I was a different kind of writer. Now
I blog for a living. Or write blogs for other people for a living, more
specifically. So to me it feels weird to blog in my spare time.
Instead, that time has been filled with lots of family and friend
time, sports…okay, specifically hockey both live & NHL playoffs on TV, and
just living life in general. Which, in the past, I always came over here to
blog about.
Crazy, now I write more words a week than I ever did when I
was writing fiction (NaNoWriMo excluded) but can’t find time to write about the
stuff I want to write about. You know, Me. Just kidding. No I’m not…
Sometimes it makes me sad that I gave up on writing for fun
(or to rant or whatever) because that kind of writing is always so cathartic. But
now I freelance for income so, like I said, writing more is sometimes a
stretch.
Can I confess something? This is the fifth post I’ve started
writing to go up over here in the past two or three weeks. I get to about 400
words and can’t keep going. Not because the thought is complete or the story is
done but because I can’t figure out how
to complete the thought. Five half written posts are getting moldy in a folder
on my computer somewhere.
And I really have no idea if I’ll be able to finish this one
either but something tells me I will.
Because today I’m supposed to be writing pitches to a bunch
of Green companies offering my blogging services.
Then again, if I want to keep that paycheck showing up every
week maybe I should continue working. Guess that's what got me into this situation of not writing over here in the first place, huh?
And it all comes full circle.
This one isn’t even going to come close to 400 words. But
somehow it feels finished anyway.
2 comments:
Nice to have you back, even for just a short and sweet post.
Love you,
Mum <3
I understand. I not only understand, I empathize fully. Writing for a living does tend to cut down on the writing NOT for a living. Some day, when we're both on-stage accepting our Pulitzers and Nobels, we'll look back on these times and laugh like lunatics. Then they'll cart us off without ever giving us our prizes, which will suck.
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