Starting a blog was a way for me to challenge myself as a writer and find some cool blogs to follow. To really get going in the blogging world, I thought joining NaBloWriMo would get the old, write-y juices flowing every day. I envisioned myself pumping out words like Steinbeck–a co-worker, who writes sweeping, epic emails.
Not so much.
I have failed to post every day and I have posted lame filler (see For My Dog: Tiny Puppy) just to say I posted. I truly want to post something great every day, but I cannot be held accountable for this failure. It’s my brain‘s fault, really. It seems to take a big data dump the exact moment I connect fingers to keyboard. El blanko. I think all about stuff I want to write about all bloody day long; making little notes in a leather-bound, over-priced journal I purchased for this exact purpose; saying “that’s a blog post” to co-workers in the middle of conversations and meetings.
Instead of helping words flow to the page, my brain flips me the bird, grabs a paper, and . . . I’ll spare you the details–in word form at least. Programming note: a pumpkin will be standing in for Thain in Vain’s Brain tonight.
A little gratuitous, but YOLO (and I gotta use this picture). Sorry.
Its brain is now very emptsy, precious. Very emptsy indeed.
Emptsy and stupid, except for the scatter of dust bunnies and . . .
What does your brain do when you sit down to write?