Tag: writing

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so many ideas

So little time.

I almost started a blog in 2007. I think it’s still hanging out there on blogger, empty with possibility.

It was July 7, 2007, in fact. The dog we got when I was 16 had just died.

I saw a rainbow that day, when she died. And I thought with the 7/7/07, that it was a sign I needed to write more, to exercise that muscle that I was only using at work.

It’s been my dream to write a book for a really long time. But I’ve found all sorts of excuses not to do it. The most recent one is that my husband and I have a busy, energetic, all consuming (in the best way) son, and it’s just us. The only help we have is when we pay for a babysitter, and with the pandemic, that hasn’t been an option, either.

It’s not very fair to blame the procrastination of writing on my son, though. The book has been on the back burner for a long time.

The thing is, I have so many ideas. I’m wondering if this is part of my problem, that I have all these ideas swirling and it leads to this overwhelming feeling.

So now I have a blog to deposit these ideas, and to stretch my writing muscle in different ways.

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why blog

Why not just journal. Keep a diary. Buy a blank book and fill it up.

I kept a journal when I was pregnant. I wrote it in nearly every night before we fell asleep. My husband would read; I would write. I felt like it was such a momentous time that I needed to document it, and I hoped I would keep it up once our son was born.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

Newborns are all-consuming…and so are infants. And waddlers (that’s my child care’s cute description of one-year-olds). Same with toddlers and preschoolers. At least that’s how I’ve chosen to spend my time away from work, volunteering, cleaning, cooking, reading, and social media (probably too much time spent in that last category).

Also, there’s something more accountable about making your thoughts public. I think it will make me a better writer.

And, I hope my son will read these someday. There’s something creepy about reading someone’s private journal. (Sweet boy, if you are reading this, you can pore over my pregnancy journal.)

I hope to write about my childhood, my adult life, my loves, and my writing. It’s good therapy for me, and I hope for you.