So, you may notice a bit more output here.
Frankly, some of it may be of questionable quality. That’s as planned, to be honest.
See, I’ve suffered from a kind of writer’s block. Not only here, in what I think of as my public, non-fiction world, but in my creative world, too. The photography has helped that, but, not in the way or quite as much as I had hoped. But, recently, several things that I’ve been reading and paying attention to all sort of came together to send me a message:
I tend to worship the written word, mainly because I love it so much. But, as a result, I have all kinds of really terrible ideas about how those words get written, or at least, how I should write them. The net effect, of course, is that nothing gets written, as long-time readers here have no doubt noticed.
Then, I read “Talker’s Block” on Seth Godin’s blog.
The idea, in brief, is that no one really gets up in the morning worrying so much about what they’re going to say that they voluntarily remove themselves from all conversation until they can think of the “right” thing to say. (I suppose the case might be made that people who are autistic do that, but I don’t think they actually worry about it. It’s just something they do.) No, his argument was that we get up in the morning and go about our business and talk, mostly without considering it much, because that’s what we do all the time.
Now, apply that to writing and the answer to getting over writer’s block is to write. All the time. Even poorly. Just write and keep writing.
So, that’s what I’m doing. And, I hope the end result will be that you see more output here.
Don’t worry, though, I won’t send all my posts through Twitter and Facebook and all that. Some will come through, just not all. And, I suspect that, for a while, they’ll keep coming through, for search engine placement purposes and marketing and the like. But, they’ll taper off eventually.
Thanks for your attention.
You can go back to whatever internet gewgaw was wasting your time before me.
Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened for us."