When do you know if you’ve outgrown something? If something that used to bring you joy and challenge and even comfort now just leaves you a bit anxious?
I haven’t written in months.
I’ve jotted down a line here and there. A scrap of a poem. The beginnings of various essays. Some journal entries (due largely in part to my short story class I taught in the fall…)
But nothing for this.
And what is this, anyway? It feels a bit naive to think that a blog is a valuable use of my time. I do not plan on being discovered this way (notice: this way), and I wonder if it’s time to throw in the towel.
You’ve had a good run. Thanks, old friend. Time to move on.
This question is all the more pressing because this blog will expire on February 18th unless I decide to continue.
Do I pull the plug and hope that something else fuels my creativity the way this used to?
[Maybe I’ll finally write on Saturday mornings without a deadline forcing me?]
Do I admit that I have had writer’s block (which I don’t even believe in) for roughly a year and a half?
[Maybe all the places I’ve been/things that I’ve done/books that I’ve read will inspire me?]
Or do I plunk some money down, embrace this place as something that will continue to challenge and grow me, and make myself type?
Jury’s still out.
But this is the most I’ve written since August, so maybe there’s hope yet.
[Photo: Gabe Knell]