With this blog, I’ve never really tied myself down to a strict subject. Initially, that was the plan; book links and blurbs and reviews mixed in with original posts.
Then I discovered I enjoyed the original posts. I enjoyed sharing a morning thought, a bit of whatever was on my mind that day.
Still a bit to read, right?
It’s the freedom, the randomness. The ability to talk when I have something to say, even if it’s about the way the sky is melding into the horizon in soft bands of blue-gray.
But the other thing I’ve discovered about blogging is the way it comes in cycles, the way it ebbs and flows. There are times when the posts flow steadily and hitting publish is as certain and easy as taking a breath.
And then there are times where a casual chat across the virtual highways aren’t where the mind goes. Periods when even squeezing in a couple of hundred words feels like a betrayal to your to-do list.
To hold onto a thing — even a thing you enjoy — too tightly is to crush it, to take the joy it brings and grind it to nothing. Writing is work. Remember that. Writing is work. Most writing is not airy; most writing is not breezy, no matter how expertly one can make it sound that way.
But blogging is a simple conversation. And there’s never a need to fill a silence just because it exists.
Hey, did you see a real-life scientist scienced Aunty Ida?
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