Stream of consciousness writing to keep the blog alive:
It might be time to broaden my horizons. Someone asked me yesterday what I like to do besides blogging and I was hard-pressed to think of anything. You know you’ve succumbed to the blogging black hole at that point, yes?
It isn’t that I don’t like to do anything. It’s just that what came to mind all sounded so boring.
And looking at the sparsity of blogging recently, I’m not sure I like what that may say about me.
I have realized I am a boring person.
Either that, or I’m a tired person who doesn’t think well on my feet.
I have also realized I am terrible at small talk. See above. Once we get talking about the meaty stuff, though, there’s no stopping me.
I have some very important things I think heavily about. I wonder if I’m too serious sometimes.
Sometimes I put my foot in my mouth, too. I don’t always express what I mean the way I mean it. I am not exactly a sound-bite kind of person.
Went to the library today and spent some time trying to write. Thought maybe if I got out of the house and away from the temptation to blog (see above) and Facebook and clean house obsessively maybe I’d be able to get the writing flowing. Well, actually I spent most of the time I had there looking at some things I wrote in high school. Then spent time with the memories that joined me there in the quiet of the library, memories that had been shelved for a long time.
I didn’t remember my writing being so dark. Funny. Amazing what 21 years and lots of grace can do for your outlook on life.
Yes, I said 21 years. If I were being brutally honest, I’d have to say 21 and a half.
I know, I find that hard to believe, too.
I did make a valiant effort at starting my children’s story. I am afraid to write the word ‘book’ next to that. I think if I admit that’s a deep-seated dream and then go forward, I’m scared about what that might mean. As long as it’s a dream, I don’t have to face the fact that it might not be good enough for anyone else to get excited about seeing it in print.
But I’m writing it anyway.
I say that fearfully.
I read the first few paragraphs to my middle son, who requested I write him a story several years ago. He liked what I read. Wants me to continue. I think I have a germ of an idea.
Then maybe I can write that novel that’s been shelved since high school, too. The one that I pull out of the desk in my mind and mentally dust off every so often and hope to one day flesh out into something wonderful.
I’d settle for something somewhat okay at this point, I think. Maybe.
Did I mention it’s 21 years later?
Must go cook some dinner now. The children and the husband need to eat.
I told you I’m boring.....
I have also realized that maybe there isn’t really anything wrong with being boring as long as what I’m doing is what I’m supposed to be doing right now. Right now, being a mom who blogs occasionally and cleans obsessively, but who is learning to grow in grace and in love for my Savior and hopes to grow in the boldness to share that with others isn’t really all that boring.
There are alternatives to being boring that are not worth the excitement, too. When I ponder that, I am happy to opt for boring.
I do think I’ll make the time to write in the midst of the boringness, though.
After all, as I was reminded when in my papers today I found a 22-year-old list of writing rules from my days with the high school creative writing magazine, “Remember: Variety is the ‘hot pepper’ of life!!!”