Writing is only Writing.
Not writing has it’s own bailywick of preferences, with the same difference.
I realize I have released a bunch of posts since writing this one (but not yet posting). And I also realize my posting habits tend to come in ebbs and flows, many at one time then nothing for possibly eons. But I beg your indulgence as this post is one of whimsy and meant to be taken lightly with a wee bit of salt. If you will, kindly permit me a departure into proximate fact, seasoned with a sprinkle of hyperbole, bordering on nonsense. Merely as a momentary wayward wander into waggish-wonkism. I can assure you I will garnish liberally, using a large dash of literary license. You can be sure any useful information is strictly an accidental coincidence, and I apologize after the fact.
I must say I truly admire bloggers who post articles every day. And some even multiple times in a day, every day.
Daily bloggers have true grit, committed commitment, persistence, perseverance, tenacity, dedication, staying power, infinite patience, determination, doggedness, fortitude, steadfastness, resolve, diligence, and. obstinacy. Fingertips pregnant with words banging a keyboard that puts those words into neat little piles and arranging them into crafted syntax, forming thoughts in cleverly formatted fixtures, fixing symbols into brilliant images and descriptions. They do. Or they do not. Either/or. Regardless. They are there. Post completed. Posted. Every day.
As for me, I become bored with my own writing after a period of time, and find myself on a slow burn, heading toward a genuine burnout. A seeming endless churn of informational/perspective-of-view/ treatises. Analyses, speculative deconstructions, and interpretations. Posts of my own making that become….BORING to my own eyes. And if to my eyes, what then? Should it be of interest to other eyes?
It’s not because I can’t think of things to write. Of course I can think of things to write. I don’t need to think of things to write. I just think of things to write by fiat. Sometimes even ex nihilo. Alternate subjects come from everyplace and upon anything my eyes happen to alight at any given moment. Also, they come by separate thoughts and memories that commingle as I read other’s writing in books, in the bible, wherever.
Once the subject is chosen then the process begins. Which is to commence organizing and refining thoughts into intelligible words. Then parsing those words to a more exact expression to be placed in the best order to describe the picture I want to paint. I could do that by describing the busyness of a single ant in an ant colony. Solomon did that, and what a picture it portrayed in contrast/comparison with meaning in our own lives.
I took a lesson from Solomon and brazenly did that myself. In an article(Here)describing busy little squirrels running around, up and down trees, suggestive of them looking for a treasure they seemed to had lost overnight. I compared it to the experience of my own life excitedly searching the scriptures as a treasure I had found. Itemizing, identifying each little jewel and tiniest gold nugget. Cataloguing. Poring over. Perusing.
So you see? It’s not because I can’t think of things to write. It is the question of writing without it becoming a continuous re-churning prosaic habitual “this is what I always write” style well worn trench of familiar comforting feelings of pseudo-safety. Did you like that long sentence? That was risky to my “safe mode” sensitivity. Outside my comfort zone. I found it exhilarating.
I most often feel comfortable in the style of short, staccato-like sentences, on the order of Papa Hemingway. I’m no Hemingway. I find some freedom in that, too. Not only not claiming to be a writer, but going further to claim not being a writer gives me oodles and gobs of licensed freedom. I like freedom in writing. I will accept it wherever I can impose it on myself.
So, can you see why I get bored with my own writing when I post too often? If I successfully demonstrated that at all, I have done my duty in writing this reasonable ramble of rambunctious random-lucence. (That last hyphenation is by my own fault by fiat.)
My advice to you as a writer/blogger?
Yeah, right! I don’t think so!
I don’t want to lose my self-wager at the very end of this one — no didactic add-on in so close to escaping heretofore.
I will leave the ‘teach-me-teach-you’ for those who are quite habitual with it, thank you.
I kept Corrie Ten Boom’s quote for the very end. The very pithy, and memorable, and inspiring wisdom should be kept separate unto its own focal point. As is the Lord Jesus, Himself.
“You will never know Christ is all you need, until Christ is all you have.” Corrie Ten Boom
“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End,” Revelation 22 :13