This is not a cliché, or shouldn’t be. Countless of diary-like blog entries have inundated the web with diatribes of guilt for not tending sheep to their blogs, as if the writing itself deterred the writer, or the invisible weight of “the blog” has become this monstrosity that with each passing day grows bigger.
No, this is not a cliché. This is not me, the writer, telling you whatever excuses lay at my fingertips that may become artistic expression in and of themselves as to why I’ve not tended sheep these oh-so-many-days. Truly, like any writer, if considering overarchingly, the task at hand could be routinely fit into a day as well as brushing teeth. This kind neglect typifies most writers, and I can say ‘most’ only in that I don’t know most –only me.
It’s not for lack of ideas, mind you. Ideas abound. It’s truly how much life outside the keyboard plays dominantly with our time; we are the masters of our own clocks, to be sure. Mine resists the 6am chirping from out my window on a rainy spring morning as it does the blurry-eyed 10pm opportunity when the house is quiet and productivity maxes out at Facebooking (oh, gosh –is that now a verb???).
As a parent, though, I’d say that parenting is enough of a distraction, though not so much for J.K. Rowling, and I should aspire to that, maybe. The juggle of being a mommy-writer slash maid slash chauffeur slash cook slash dandelion extractor is just a typical day’s efforts. The return to this venue with renewed vigor is favoured by the writers met via Twitter in recent days –a good and growing group. Did I mention you can find me as @racheledits?
In the days to come, that connection to other writers may just be that extra oomph that is a better distraction toward writing more regularly.