Was writing so much I got scared, so I stopped. Big mistake.

I can’t stop erasing this first sentence. My God, am I ever going to get out of this loop?

Few weeks ago I came back to my blog. I missed writing, or rather, I got tired of all the notebooks just sitting on my desk. When one filled, I’d reach for another and another, which was sort of fine, but eventually some part of me started wanting my writing to go further than my desk.  Some ephemeral, but essential, and equally fun part of being a writer was missing.  So I came back to the blog.

I started by doing some Blogging U exercises. God I’d forgotten home much fun it is to create a post, to be gently pulled. To lose track of hours. To be engaged in that way—I’ll just say it: it’s better than sex. And I’ve has some, you know, great. Um. Whatever.

All fine except I noticed I hadn’t left the house in three days, then four. I was forgetting to eat until late at night, and staying in my bathrobe later and later into the day until it was all day. I was forgetting to, you know, pee. I got scared. Go outside and play, for Christ’s sake.  Binge-watch a little Netflix.  So I did. And didn’t write for a few days.

And today I couldn’t.

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This is one of the most creatively difficult afternoons I’ve had in a long time (and I’ve had some difficult creative periods over the years. That were years). An hour ago I didn’t think I’d get over this hump. I felt mildly panicked. Thank God I remembered this: “Start writing, not matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” Thank you, Louis L’Amour.

What a delicate thing a creative habit can be. The balancing involved. Over-engaged or under-engaged. I don’t think I could handle another not engaged.

There are some hair-pin turns on this path.

Today I deleted my Follow button

I’m a horrible person to follow. Wait.  Following me makes me feel awful.  It freaks me out.  I have a gigantic ego, I think, but it looks like Swiss cheese; full of holes.  The last couple of days of posting after some time away, I picked up 10 (or is it ten) new followers and I’ve been paralyzed and depressed ever since.  I felt like, Oh God, now I’ll never get to write!

Please believe I don’t like posting what a neurotic case I sometimes am. But more to the point is that the blank page itself frightens me, which uses up a LOT of energy, so that when I turn on my computer to write, I don’t have the energy to read and like and comment on other people’s stuff.  I do like doing those things but I find that then I don’t have anything left-over for me.

Too, I’m not into the whole Like for Like thing.  I’m 56! Please.

Anyway.  I’m still going to follow a favorite few, can’t help that.  It’s just that I’d like to do some short story writing more, and meta writing less.

I’m grateful to the people who have followed me, I truly am. You made me feel like someone, like a writer.  You supported me.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I love this line from the Wizard of Oz: I’m not a bad man; I’m just a very bad wizard.

NOTE: I only deleted my Follow widget.  I guess I’ll have to upgrade to be able to make the Follow link at the top of the page be gone.  :/