I’m feelin’ ya, Freddy.
I did start a post yesterday. And I did all the right things…ate hazardous food, scurried here and there, whipped up passable sustenance for my family, threw jeans in the wash (my skinny jeans must be ready, mum) and watched American Idol. Still, the words would only trickle, no drip out, one by one. There was no spatter pattern (I’ve learned so much from watching Dexter), no rhyme, no reason. The case had gone cold.
I know what I was trying to say. The point I was attempting to make, but I couldn’t connect the dots. I wasn’t pickin’ up what I was puttin’ down, so how could I expect you to?
My finger hovered over the publish button, longing to blast out another midnight post, but I realized this isn’t the playing field where we sacrifice quantity for quality. I recognized more is expected than petty, amateur ramblings and gibberish. I realized that my readers assume I will provide interesting and articulate points of interest. You have high expectations. Yes, all three of you. And I didn’t want to let you down.
In the end, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t hit publish. I checked my stats instead. Yesterday, I had the highest amount of visitors to my blog yet. Huh? Hazy’s Top Five raked ‘em in! I hate to tell you, but it was my least favorite post. (hopefuly we can still get along) When I shot that one into cyberspace, I thought I’d lose you three, but no…apparently you love lists. (Yay me!)
Writing a novel is pressure; 50, 60, 200 000 words. Yikes! But unless you’ve already produced one, acquired an Agent, had it published and are on a deadline for the next, you’re pretty much writing it at your own pace. No one knows what page you’re on or how many more you have to go. And no one cares. I am learning that writing a blog is a big deal. I have established pressure. I have invented a daily grind. I have created an expectation. And I’m absolutely thrilled.
I’ll post my grocery list later. I need the views.