It’s not that I can’t write. It’s that I can’t write a blog post!
I wrote more than two pages on my novel while at work today. OK, maybe they weren’t good pages. Maybe it’s a crappy novel. These things happen. The fact is I sat there and wrote them with a bare minimum of staring at the blank page first.
So I sit down to dash off a blog post and nothing. What’s that all about? I know damn well I wrote something about how writing the blog every day was helping me to write the novel. Is writing the novel now making me unable to write the blog? That’s ridiculous!
And obviously not true, because, look, I just wrote two paragraphs (I don’t count the first one; it’s only two sentences). I do find it interesting, if a little snake-eating-its-own-tail-ish, to write about writing. I like to read about writing, too. A writing friend of mine said she stopped doing that, because she feared she was reading about writing more than she was writing. When she said that, I just looked sheepish.
I do have some Mohawk Valley adventures planned for the weekend, one of which I alluded to in a post earlier this week (astute readers will know it when they see it) (extremely clever readers may have already guessed) (now I’m being too coy; OK, I’m done). I may even write another post about Why I Can’t Write a Post, this time thinking of something more substantive to say. In the meantime, this is Non-Sequitur Thursday, so I have only to think of a foolish headline, and I’m done.
Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.