I’m just a traveler on this earth, Sure as my heart’s behind the pocket of my shirt. I’ll just keep rolling till I’m in the dirt, ‘Cause I’m a traveller, oh, I’m a traveller. -Chris Stapleton
If you’ve been keeping up with this blog for any length of time, you may have noticed something absent. Maybe you realized it before I did. If so, you’ve seen through my facade.
I’ve been drifting content-wise with material for the blog as well as my personal writing. It’s going to be one of those years where I struggle to come up with a post for you. Somehow I keep plugging away at that bimonthy goal, but if I were truly honest, I don’t feel the content is worth your time or mine. What are we all doing here, people? What brings us back to this space? What are we searching for?
It bums me out when I fail to get motivated with writing projects. Stories are my escape from reality and my source of entertainment, but once again I’m trapped in this bog of ceaseless daily routines. Ideas wander fleetingly through my brain. Nothing interests me. I have more than enough projects on my bookshelf, sure. But I grow weary just thinking about picking one up.
My thoughts are definitely grounded this year. I’m focusing on my feet, keeping them moving, pushing one in front of the other. Winter usually does this to me, as well as big life changes.
I’ve got some big life changes on the horizon.
You see, the reality is, I can’t escape right now. I can’t run off. I have too many pressing details which require attention. If I lose focus on those, life will slip out of my grasp and I’ll scramble frantically, wondering where the time went. Duty calls. Responsibility knocks loudly.
There are writers out there who pound away at the keys even on days when they don’t feel like it. They’ve developed perseverance. They’re persistent and disciplined. I admire them greatly. Now let’s be perfectly honest in that a lot of writers are not this dutiful. We fall into writing slumps. We let the ink dry and dust cover the pages. It’s a sad truth. And not to make excuses, but we struggle just to maintain our lives. Things fall out of balance. Frequently.
It begs the question, What is this all for?
Or more accurately, For whom?
Sometimes we forget why we’ve started this journey.
What makes you write? What do you enjoy writing? Are you in a slump now? Let’s talk about it.
This has been,
Fanny T. Crispin
Written Things 