I haven’t been in the mood to write anything new.
Every time I sat down to write, I told myself, “It’s okay if I don’t write today. I’ll get it down another day.”
The scenario repeated itself, again and again.
I turned on my laptop, sat down with a cup of coffee, and did what I used to do when I wanted to be productive.
I launched WordPress, clicked on New Post, and forced myself to start typing. Something. Anything.
When you want to make yourself do something that seems monumental, break it down into little chunks. It becomes easier to accomplish.
You don’t need a clear idea of what you want to write. I mean, that’s great if you do. I didn’t and still don’t.
I scrolled through endless notes on my phone, no writing ideas. Tons of random lyrics, but nothing I could design a blog post around (without trying too hard).
It got me thinking. Who am I writing for?
This blog is my personal-public space (what an oxymoron). I don’t make a sen from my writing, in fact, I’m losing money paying for web hosting instead of using my free, already existing blogger account.
Who even reads this drivel?
Me, I guess. Does it matter who’s reading? Not really. It’s nice knowing that some people are entertained by this, but it’s not essential.
That’s just how art is as a hobby. I enjoy the process of creation. It doesn’t matter if other people didn’t enjoy my work. I had fun making it. That’s the best part.
While this blog started off as some sort of diary/journal, it evolved into a place for me to simply write.
Anything I wanted.
Naruto x Demon Slayer hentai fan-fiction? Not yet.
The point is, there is no point.
Like an artist who is consistently drawing in sketchbooks to hone their craft, or a guitarist practicing the scales and strumming patterns – repetition is required to improving a skill.
The more you do something, the better you get. At least, that’s how practice works, in theory.
There are caveats like ensuring you have the correct technique so you’re not repeating the wrong methods and turning that into muscle memory (yes, looking at you, right hand (I use the same guitar strum pattern too much) what were you thinking?) but you get the gist.
By writing often, I hope to improve. It’s a skill essential to my current job and I’ve relied on it to make a living. I can’t be bad at it, can I?
By writing often, the process becomes easier. It may not seem like it, but this is practice for me. Each sentence I form helps future George be more confident about placing words onto a page.
By writing often, my audience gets more to read. All twelve of you, I know you’re out there. Thank you for reading.
By writing often, I understand the rules of writing better. That way I can create entertaining pieces that are informative at the same time. Edutainment, it’s called. My favorite way to learn.
By writing often, I can ramble on about not being able to write when I’m facing writer’s block. At least I’m putting words onto a page and not yelling into the void or keeping it to myself.
Is writer’s block real? Or is it some excuse that writers came up with so they didn’t have to admit they were lazy?
What I do know is writing makes me feel like I’m being productive. Even if I had spent the rest of the day loafing about. It’s a bit like negative bias but not really.
I’ve typed out six hundred words for this piece. Guess it’s time to call it a night. Don’t want it to drag on.
Perhaps next time I’ll practice my endings.