I used to be a prolific writer.

I would write all the time.

I had blogs for this and blogs for that. I’d start a blog, get tired of it, and start another. I probably have at least 10 abandoned blogs just floating around out there on the world wide web.

I’d write things in notebooks, type things up and save them on my computers, (yes, computers… when you write as much as I do you can’t have just one…) print and stash away previously written pieces until my filing cabinet was bulging with my writing, (You know you’re over-doing it if you can get a metal filing cabinet to bulge.)… I have things saved in Google Docs and One Drive and in my e-mail. Honestly, when I die, someone is going to have quite the digital paper and paper-paper trail to clean up. (My apologies to my future spouse, children and/or cats.)

It’s just that… once I discovered writing when I was 11… I couldn’t stop. It became a passion, a compulsion. The idea that I could put my own thoughts and words on paper to share or revisit later? To express myself through the written word? Well, it was brilliant! And now it’s how I communicate. Now I can’t stop. You should see me try to carry on a conversation. It’s actually painful. Sometimes I just give up and start scribbling on a napkin that I then pass back and forth to the person I’m talking to. People initially find this behavior off-putting, but once they see how much more eloquent I am through my writing, they gladly grab a pen and start scribbling right alongside of me.

I’m kidding, peeps. C’mon. I like to write… but I’m not… you know… crazy or something.

Most of the time.

Anyway… as much as I enjoy writing, it can also become a debilitating chore. Sometimes, that blank page or screen is just more than I can handle. And while the thoughts may be swirling in my head, and there are a dozen ideas that just NEED to be talked about… sometimes I just can’t. Sometimes it all feels so… stupid. Because you start to convince yourself that you have nothing worthwhile or interesting to say. You start to believe that you have nothing new to add to the conversation… it’s all been done before. You begin to scoff at your own abilities and wonder why you ever thought of putting your thoughts down on paper for others to read because… how embarrassing. And even when you are feeling confident in your abilities, sometimes there’s just too much to talk about and it seems like an impossible task that’s is just easier not to tackle.


So you avoid it.

Oh, you think about it. And fantasize about it. And feel all tingly when you come up with a great idea worth writing about… but then you convince yourself that your time is better spent elsewhere… and pretty soon, before you know it, you haven’t written anything in a really long time, and when you finally get back to it, everything suddenly feels jilted and rusty and awkward. And you convince yourself… once again… that it just isn’t worth it.

giphy-downsized sheldon

And that’s where I am right now. I’ve been avoiding this blog like the plague. As much as I love writing, sometimes I just convince myself that I can’t… and the longer I listen to that voice, the harder it is to get back to it. But once I get back to it? I can’t stop. And I feel excited and joyful about the writing process all over again. But it’s the getting back to it that’s so difficult.

SO, here’s the plan, Stan. I’m going to force myself to write something at least every other day. No matter how mundane, how insipid, or uninspired… I’m just going to write. I’m not going to critique myself and get overly analytical about it… I’m just going to write. Until I’m back in the groove. And once I’m back in the groove… then there will be no stopping me. I’ll just write like a maniac. I’ll be all…

And it will be magical once again.

So, wish me luck, peeps. I got this… Write?