My well of creativity has run dry. All week long I’ve had nothing to say, and I still don’t. I don’t even really feel like blog-chatting.
I mean, I want to chat, but I have no idea about what.
I get this way about life in general, in which case it’s called “boredom.” When General Apathy takes over (usually every day around 3 pm), I kick start myself by calling up a friend and asking what she’s making for supper, what gossip she knows (yes, I’m naughty), and whether or not she’s had any profound thoughts as of late.
If I’m lucky, she’s in a rambly mood and soon I’m puttsing around the house emptying the dish drainer, cleaning off the table clutter, maybe even setting a pot of rice to cook, all the while the phone smashed between my shoulder and ear. By the time I hit the “end” button, I’m smiling, my brain is jumping with ideas, and I have a renewed energy to do what needs to be done.
When I get in a funk, bloggy-wise, I don’t call anyone. I stew and mope and feel bad about myself in general.
About a week ago, Joy did a post on Ten (Super Rad) Blog Post Ideas. She had a lot of good suggestions, like to do a how-to post, or a day-in-the-life post, or a best-of post, but I can’t (don’t, won’t) just pull that stuff out of my hat. Which brings me to the next point.
I am incapable of coming up with those extremely popular top ten lists. I struggle to generate basic metaphors or lists of three, you know, where you say the dude at the checkout counter was pimply, greasy-haired, and, and, and—oh crap, I don’t know what.
So anyway, I deal with this running-on-empty state of being by doing one of two things: a) nothing, which is deeply unsatisfying and makes me feel like I’m turning into a soggy lump of moldy bread, and b) disciplining myself to type words dagnabbit, itdoesnotmatterwhatwordstheyare. But that feels egocentric and myopic and narcissistic—all those words that are kind of bad but I’m not exactly sure what they mean but I’m probably being them, you know?—because who the heck wants to read a self-discipline session? Exactly.
The bigger issue, the thing that drains me and pulls me down, is that I wish I could spin long, heartfelt, humorous, profound posts like some amazingly gifted people. It’s not going to happen, though, because I don’t have all those weighty thoughts and because it takes all my mental powers and then some to come up with the 600 concise and meaningful words about eggs (or something equally ordinary) that’s due every other week for the paper. I can only do so much.
Yesterday on my way to an appointment to keep me from turning into a wooly mammoth (otherwise known as a haircut), I tuned into NPR just in time to year the end of a talk show in which they were discussing writerly matters. It was kind of hard to hear what they were saying because our van is missing its antenna, but I did make out the guest’s main point which was: don’t worry about being, or not being, like other people—get to know your own voice and develop your own style. Which is kind of scary because what if my voice is irrelevant, or really hoarse, or worse yet, annoyingly shrill?
In spite of my scary panic thoughts, I found his advice to be both soothing and freeing. I am what I am and that’s that. (Brilliant, I know.) I’ll just go on wiping up the sticky spots on the floor and calling my girlfriends and making myself type words when I don’t feel like it.
Happy Friday, dearies!
This same time, years previous: ground pork and white bean chili, chocolate ice cream, baked spaghetti, chocolate mayonnaise cake, a dirt pile
Ahh. So THAT's why you ask me what I'm making for supper. Now I'll have to turn that around sometime and ask what YOU're making for supper.
You know, I think Momastery Glennon is not an Enneagram Eight. She doesn't crave the same kind of control that we do. It's when we give up control that the genius can shine right through. So give it up already… 🙂
Love & hugs to you.
Oh dear. Now you're on to me!
I read your blog regularly as an RSS feed and have not commented, though there has probably been something I'd say about every post. I love your blog and have been reading it for over a year. I think what got me interested initially was the home-farm aspect and that you live in a similar place/climate as me but what kept me around was the never ending saga of your wonderful family and as you put it, quotidian existence. I found myself caring deeply for the six of you despite the fact that we don't know each other in the slightest. Don't be discouraged by lack of content, in a way it is the simplicity and normalcy that means the most to me (and in life). Thanks for sharing it.
Your blog helps me feel grounded. I love the complex joys you show the world. You don't need grandiose literary talents to create a beautiful thing and sometimes the funk of having no drive it precisely what should be discussed. Keep on writing and sharing even if it frustrates. I, for one, love it all.
Random girl who has read your rss feed daily for over a year.
I read you blog because it is you! You make me laugh, cry, ponder, gasp, and that is why I keep coming back! Your real, I can believe you. What you have to share is very valuable.
L in Elkton
Don't underestimate your voice. I think it's wonderful. Just because you don't think you match up with someone's writing style doesn't mean your own doesn't inspire someone else the way others do to you. 🙂
well, I'm a lurker who is posting for the first time here to give you a boost! I love your voice. It's quirky and unique and real–even when you're not feeling very interesting. I'd love to have you over for dinner. Margo's a real-life friend of mine, so we could have a little party! Keep writing.
Yay for de-lurking! I so appreciate that you took the time to offer some encouragement. And isn't Margo awesome?!
Go make some ice cream.
God makes everyone different and each person special and if you spun long, heartfelt, humorous, profound posts that contained all kind of weighty thoughts, I probably wouldn't read it. Your posts are exactly what I need to make me laugh, get through the day and feel like I'm not the only one. I agree with Faith above that "it's all the random sticky messes and similar adventures that make it so relatable." and I wouldn't wish it to be any other way. Vicki
you are so pretty. that picture is gorgeous.
Aw shucks, thank you!
You ARE a good writer . . . even when you don't feel you have anything to write about.
And then you wrote this post.
Confession: Sometimes I purposefully don't read Momastary because it just makes me too jealous. Where does she get those words and how does she string them all together? It's just too much.
I think she's a genius.
Keep writing! I love reading your blog. And it's all the random sticky messes and similar adventures that make it so relatable…I'm no longer sure if relatable is a word since it's apparently spelled incorrectly and there's not an appropriate option to change it to. I'm going with it anyway.
You're sweet. And yes, "relatable" is totally a word.
I depend on my girlfriends for exactly the kind of pick-me-up you described.
I've been feeling blah for a few weeks. I told my best friend I was having a mid-life crisis. . . I think.
I worry, too, that if I use my authentic voice it will annoy other people (I'm an oldest daughter – are you? I think that kind of fear often goes with the turf).
I love your blog (you!). I put you on my sidebar so I wouldn't miss a post 🙂
Yes, I'm an oldest child—loud, domineering, yadda yadda yadda. Maybe sometime I'll call you up—my first words will be, "So, what are you making for supper?"