Lately it’s been one shitty first draft after another.
It has been exactly 20 days since I last hit publish — longer than I’ve gone without blogging since day one. I’m up to nearly 20 unpublished drafts of varying lengths and have jotted down notes for at least a dozen other ideas.
It’s not that I haven’t been writing, but I’ve been getting about two-thirds of the way through writing a post only to realize that the incoherent, rambling mess I’ve written should clearly never see the light of day.
So what’s the deal?
20 days ago I published This Blog Post (the one about being a weirdo, in case you forgot because it’s been ACTUALLY FOREVER). And to be truthful, it felt like a pretty big deal to put that information out there in the Universe.
When I hit publish, I felt just barely within my vulnerability comfort zone … like I was bumping right up against the “feeling overexposed” edge, but not quite going over.
Basically it felt scary, but awesome.
But here’s the thing: working at the edge like that is exhilarating, but it’s not something you can sustain 24/7. Not every blog post will be a manifesto, not every insight will be radical, not every life change will be profound.
(For god’s sake, I regularly write about things like not having any clean yoga pants!)
Yet over the past 20 days I have struggled to write The Next Blog Post. Somehow nothing I came up with seemed big enough, important enough, meaty enough, well written enough to come next. I mean, what could possibly follow exposing some of the most sacred nooks and crannies of my heart? (Exactly. I have no idea either!)
It’s not a manifesto. It’s not a radical insight about the meaning of life. It’s not even a pseudo-dramatic life change. It’s just me, sitting here casually putting pen to paper (or fingers to the keyboard, as the case may be) and saying something.
And you know what, this post is certainly not mind-blowing, but it’s a (re)start and I’ll take it.