To Write. Or Not. Every Day.

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If it’s not a New Year’s resolution, it should be.  

If it’s not a habit, then it’s a good one to start. 

If it’s not something you care to do, then stop. For god-sake, stop. 

But if you’re a writer -- a real writer, then you know. You must. Write. Just keep the hand moving across the keyboard, no matter what or how painful the process.  Keep the brain working. No matter how foolish or dull you feel or how much drivel it seems you can produce.  You must.  Write. Write every day.

I do. For the most part. Almost every day, there’s an an article or some project waiting for completion on my desk. It’s work. Nice work if you can get it. But the fact that I’m working as a writer on assignment for others is still my cop-out. . . one vainglorious excuse for not writing for myself. Every day.

In my book, (and no, I am not working on a book)  writing on assignment doesn’t count for writing that’s true and fine and. . .and who am I kidding?  What I have here - staring back at me in black and white print  - is not indeed true or fine.  It’s a complaint. . . a kvetch, a rant about not writing.  

By my own admission - and negligence -  I have a “blog” that’s run dry,  gone fallow lo these many weeks. Blogger's block.  Like Peter Pan visiting Tinkerbell at her last gasp, I must "clap, clap if I believe" in fairies and tap-tap on the keyboard - my launchpad - from which perhaps someday I will take flight for good and write, write as if my very life depended on it.  Puzzling in a tumble of words. Letting them spill forth. Perhaps one day I’ll have enough scrabble pieces to fill the board.  

Or not. 

For here and now, blogging will have to do the trick.  Turning over a new page  Every day. 
It may not be the best, but it’s certainly not the worst way to pass the time.

And thanks again for stopping by.