Use It Or Lose It - Circa 2013

My writing muscle is a bit weak these days. Much like working out my abs or, God-forbid my butt, it’s a use-it-or-lose it scenario. I have found that the less I write, the less I am able to get words out of my head in a conversation, much less tap them out on a keyboard. How does this make sense?

With a quick glance at the date on my last blog entry, the last time I actually attempted any creativity, Jesus may have been a baby. So basically, if writing were my work out for my ass cheeks or abs, you would be looking at nothing but cellulite and dimples in the form of Helvetica 12 pt. on your screen right now.

I remember the night I started my blog—full of fire, flair and blissful ignorance. I had absolutely no idea how to use WordPress… let alone work my way around the dashboard, or upload anything to—well—anywhere. Night 1– Two glasses of wine, six hours and three calls to my daughter later, (which felt longer than an entire season of Mad Men) and I wanted to hunt down the creator of WordPress and toss a flaming bag of dog poop on his front porch.

But I am a “doer,” not a quitter…I always FITFO (figure it the F out) so I persevered. Finally, after a day and a half of struggling and methodically recreating my keystrokes like a kindergartner in her first fingerpainting class, I posted my first “story” and waited for signs of “views.” After several hours it was still just me and the crickets and a whole lot of silence and chirping, but no views or comments. So, I went to bed.

I tossed and turned as I tried to fall asleep that night, wondering why no one had read my cute little story. Was it bad? Was it too long? Too short? Silly? Dumb? Irrelevant? Thank God the Sand Man eventually kicked my ass, and I got some sleep — at least until I had to get up to go to the bathroom…three times.

I woke up refreshed and ready to take on the world, or at least my laptop once again. (Coffee … cream … keystrokes.) I sat and thought about whether anyone cared to read my stories or not. I thought about last night, laying there counting sheep, when I realized the only way I would ever be able to write an honest word was if I were to write for myself rather than the anonymous hypothetical audience who may or may not be awake somewhere. This wasn’t about them, it was about the ideas bouncing around in my brain like a caged animal that needed to be released.

So here I sit with my laptop perched where it belongs…on my lap. Relaxed and ready to craft something inspirational, and thinking about the controversial words of Hemingway, “Write drunk, edit sober.” But it’s only 7 AM and I don’t care much for Bloody Mary's.

So, maybe today will be the day? Fueled by caffeine and inspiration, waiting for an honest thought. Or perhaps it will be tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe even the next? At least I now know the most important rule of writing— it doesn’t matter WHAT I write or WHEN I write. What matters is THAT I write. Eventually, I hope to reach the finish line and all those words and commas and paragraphs I've written will come together and something will speak to me…and maybe even you.

© Shelli Netko 2013