One night in July I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. It was 4 a.m. For the record,I am a pretty good sleeper. I don't mine my dreams for inspiration, waking up in the middle of the night to scribble random words on a pad of paper ("re-watch Guffman" "Fosse jazz walks?"). Occasionally, I wake up and wander into our childrens' bedrooms and kiss them good night a second time. Or check a door to make sure it's locked.
No, the nagging thought at 4 a.m. had nothing to do with the safety of my home or my family. I wasn't hungry. I didn't need a nature break. I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep because of this one thought.
I'VE ABANDONED MY BLOG.
I haven't posted since April, I thought. Do I have anything else to say...
And even if I do, would it be "better" to keep scribbling my journal in a spiral bound notebook, adding to the mound of morning pages I began a few years ago to recover this creative soul?
|Vintage Blogging Platform, circa 1983|
At 4:05 a.m., I was soothed by the words of a friend and coach Ann Daly, who is unafraid to beam her bright light into the darker corners of my mind. There are times for doing and times for writing, she told me in 2011. You are doing. You don't have to do both at the same time.
But she added this: you should keep blogging. Don't think about it too much. It doesn't have to be perfect.
My ego protested. But Ann, I'm a writer. I care about grammar, structure, theme, message, metaphor, simile. Inspiration, description, exposition. If I just throw out a bunch of blog posts, God knows what will come out. I write, but I don't always blog. People might READ it.
It's September. The nagging thought that I've abandoned this voice is quiet now. Today I'm culling through saved posts, photos and a ragged spiral bound notebook. I'm going to share some of my dancer experiences going back to 2010 today. It's a leap of faith that I may learn something in the process. Perhaps a new idea will reveal itself, and certainly, old neuroses will be exposed.
Oh hell, I'll just blog. Let me know what you think.