Anne Lamott will not give me a break, not even a little one. Every single day she reminds me that writers write. They don’t think about writing or plan to write. They write. She insists that I sit down and knock out at least one paragraph and preferably more than that every single day no matter what else I am doing or that I am responsible for or that is on my mind. She is relentless.
It is true that is it hard to write a blog post when what is on my mind is not fit for public consumption, but that is not an excuse for not writing. That is a really good reason to write some things that aren’t made public. I actually started this post a long time ago. Then I got distracted. It doesn’t matter what distracted me. There’s always something.
Some of my distractions are worries. Some of my distractions are new projects and new discoveries. Some of my distractions are time-wasters born out of laziness. Or fear. Fear of where the writing might lead me. Fear of what I might unearth. Fear of what I might divulge.
But I’m writing. And if you don’t see anything posted on this blog from me, it doesn’t mean I stopped writing. I just means I haven’t written anything ready for public consumption, at least not yet.
So thank you, Anne, for spurring me to write. I know I’m the one said I wanted to write in the first place, but you know how hard that work is. Thank you for reminding me to just do it and not try to evaluate what I’m writing as I write.