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Bumps in the Road

I know it has been a long time between posts and that has been a source of consternation for me. That's not my ego talking. I haven't blogged because I haven't done anything remotely close to writing in over a month. (There, it's out for all to see.

I know it has been a long time between posts and that has been a source of consternation for me. That's not my ego talking. I haven't blogged because I haven't done anything remotely close to writing in over a month.  (There, it's out for all to see.) Because I haven't been walking the walk, I've felt like an imposter even contemplating a posting to a blog about writing.

But, this is part of my journey and that is what this is supposed to be about. And it's not like I have any excuse.  Just life. I started a running program which eats into my time. The room where my "office" lives is turned completely upside down and I don't even have access to the computer at home. And no one to blame.

I have had a couple of interesting writing-related incidents (for lack of a better word) that have gotten me thinking.  First, my sister told me she was participating in the National Novel Writing Month. My sister is an avid reader and a substitute teacher with at least 2 more degrees than me. She has always threatened to do some writing but never tackled it before. She wanted me to wish her luck and send her encouragement as she tackled challenges like pulling an all nighter, writing 2,500 words a day, etc. Petty, petty me didn't send her one email of support. I was surprised by the level of jealousy that I felt.  I was jealous because she had the time to tackle a project like this and, more importantly, because she felt like it was something she COULD do.  She wasn't crippled by self-doubt or scared of a less-than-perfect offering.

The second incident occured when I attended a retirement party for a former colleague. Another person I worked with, a dynamo intent on changing (or conquering) the world, a man who isn't moved to tears by anything less than the Holocaust Museum (his own admission), told me he had a ghost writer and publisher lined up for a book he was writing. When I asked him about the project, he indicated he hadn't even started writing it.  His exact comment was "you must be so jealous."  But I'm not.  He is in the same boat as me - no writing being done.

These two experiences made me realize just how far dug into my own personal mire I am. Humbling. Maddening. Embarassing.

So, guess what my New Year's resolution will be? Is "unmire" a word?

I do have one practical suggestion for writers for the time of year.  Write your Christmas (or anti-Christmas) stories/memoirs/pieces now, while the spirit of the season is upon you. Yes, it is too late for publishers to buy them for this year, but you will have them ready for polishing when publishers are planning their Christmas content in the summer.

May the writing be rewarding and come easily!

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