This week truly is a fail. I mean, I did write a couple paragraphs, but I couldn’t get into it. My mind’s been too twisted up. My awesome friend is creating awesome fails, and I want nothing more than to join her in that endeavor. It just might take a little longer for me to get going…

I’ve been struggling with a lot of writing issues lately. How much of writing should be pure love and inspiration, and how much should be grit and discipline? I know ultimately it’s a mix of the two, and most serious writers would probably point towards the latter–but the writers I read for fun might speak more of the former. And if I’m honest with myself, I know I’ll never be a serious writer.

Which brings me to my second issue–writing what embarrasses me. I know I shouldn’t care what others think, but… I do. And I don’t know how to stop. It’s not that I can’t see the value of writing for myself, but then I envision the people I know reading it (none–and I mean none–of whom read what I like to read, and might like to write), and I just can’t get into it. The biggest issue is that I’m so determined to write for publication that I have to think about readers when I should really only be thinking about, well, me.

So I’m trying to figure that out. And figure out where I might be working in the future. And living. And what my life is going to look like for the next year.

We’ll see how that all goes. 🙂