I start getting twitchy inside when I’ve gone awhile without posting something, but then the thought of having to organize my bouncing-off-the-wall thoughts into coherent sentences overwhelms me and I do something else instead. And, I feel like all I do lately is post about how hard it is for me to write, so I don’t want to write again the next time about how hard it is to write.

Sigh. But I guess I’ll keep doing that until it’s not so hard. Because I believe it will get easier if I just keep slogging through the muck of fear that keeps me stuck. Just by typing these words, it will get a teensy bit easier. I think it was Eleanor Roosevelt (if I stop writing to verify, I’ll surely get sidetracked and never get back to post this!) that said we should all do one thing each day that scares us. And I don’t know about you, but when I think of things that scare me, what first comes to mind is something big like facing serious illness, loss, or death. The little things, though, can be really scary too. Posting this will be my scary thing for the day because, oh my gosh, I don’t think it’s GOOD! If it’s not GOOD, how can I put it out there in the world? It might not MEAN anything, it might not MOVE anyone. It might just be ho-hum–or even, horror of horrors, BAD!–drivel that causes immediate stagnation in the brains of everyone who reads it!

Well, increasingly what it comes down to, for me, is: SO WHAT? Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have everything I put out into the world be genius. But if posting ho-hum drivel gets me out of my muck eventually, then the muckless, or at least less mucked, me should be more likely to write some good stuff later.

Also, I seem to be growing up. A bit of a late bloomer, at forty years old, but I think I’m finally getting this thing called “just doing it.” As in, “I’m going to do this anyway even though people may not approve because, oh yeah, the most important thing is to do my thing.” I know there are lots of others who are late bloomers too, but I’ve realized that there are actually people who get this thing at an early age. My almost-ten-year-old seems to have gotten it. I am inspired by her, which is way cool.

So, I have nothing more to say about this right now. Except, onward I slog. And, thanks for mucking it up with me.