My Dear Reader,
This WordPress site is likely to be deleted in three months time due to extreme embarrassment and a lack of endurance from its author.
Perhaps I am a cynic. Or a bit superfluous. Whatever is driving my need to create my 7th (or 8th, I lose count) WordPress blog, I hope that the muse hangs around a bit longer than three months.
You see, I’ve been the proud creator of blogs such as ifgodwereunlimited.wordpress.com, little lady big god, culture confession conundrum (for which I had to google conundrum because it surely is not a word that is at home in my vocabulary). Yes, each blog considered extremely original (rolls eyes) and each deleted within three months. In fact, I spent more time designing the WordPress page for culture confession conundrum than actually writing for it.
My only mildly “successful” blog was my first ever blog site, the original TheTravelingVine.wordpress.com, which had multiple posts ranging from theological reflection to the ramblings of a college sophomore. Over a period of three months, I gained almost 40 followers who were complete strangers. I considered this a huge accomplishment, so I celebrated by quitting the writing thing and deleting my first blog.
Why? Because part of me feels like a complete ass hole who gives up on things when they no longer feel “natural” or “brilliant”. Seeing as though three months is when I usually look back at my posts and think, “Wow, this chick is an idiot”, maybe I should stop going back and reading old posts.
Somewhere on the internet a really non-self-destructing writer advised,
Don’t look back until you’ve written an entire draft, just begin each day from the last sentence you wrote the preceding day.
Thanks, Will Self. I promise to read some of your work someday.
So then, why do I keep creating blogs if I know that there is an unmistakable chance of me bailing out on the whole project?
God only knows.
All I know is that today I’ve been feeling a terrible kind of way. Nothing particularly disastrous has occurred in my life, other than the fact that yesterday I sat down to write a novel that I’ve been carrying in my gut for months, only to sit there for almost two hours to only have a paragraph of vile writing to show for it. For whatever reason, in this slimy pit of “aspiring writing” that I’ve slipped myself into, my delirium has convinced me that I can cure my novel handicap with more star-crossed writing. Such is life.
So as I journey into this ink, sweat, and tears profession that being a writer is, I am interested to see if on September 30th I will be pressing the “delete site” button for the 9th and final time, or if I write a post entitled, “So, looks like the muse stuck around after all.”
This may get reckless.