It occurred to me today that I might be repeating myself a little bit.
I am starting to get the sense, working on this blog, that I might be starting to repeat myself in some ways, on certain topics. Part of me thinks that’s a bad thing. Part of me thinks that there are very few people who are reading these posts (I think my mom is the only person who has read the majority of them — HI MOM!).
Does it even matter if I’m repeating myself? I’m the one setting the rules, here. If I feel like it’s allowable for me to be repetitive, then it’s allowable.
I’m closing in on fifty blog posts in a row, one each day, going all the way back to the middle of April. And, as much as I’ve been trying not to cover the same topic over and over, I do find myself being ‘inspired’ by what’s going on around me along themes that seem to be recurring. Themes on hypocrisy, themes on distraction, themes on politics, themes on faithfulness and faithlessness; these show up, time and time again, in these daily essays I’ve been writing.
At first, it was easy, because I felt like I had a lot to say and the first twenty or thirty posts seemed to just flow from this reservoir of content that I had inside me. Then, added on top of the ‘reserve’ that I had, came new ideas, and I drafted many of those up into full-fledged posts, as well. But, more recently, it seems like it’s been getting harder and harder to find things to write about. It’s especially hard when I decided to listen to the voice of doubt in my mind that says, “Haven’t you already covered this?”
And, I guess, I could go back and start to make some kind of an inventory of what I’ve been writing –of what I’ve had to say– just to try to see whether or not there is some coherency there that I should further investigate. Part of me has been wondering, as I approach blog post number fifty, how much writing this would all actually amount to, if I put it altogether and counted the words. Would I be impressed with what I’ve been doing? Would anyone else?
Do I even care?
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They say, in the pseudo-psychological way that so many pieces of modern wisdom seem to be coated, that windshields are larger than back windows because one ought to be more interested in what’s ahead than in what’s behind. So, part of me thinks that, to look back to see how much I’ve done, to see how repetitive I’ve been, is just a loss of focus.
Rather than looking back, I ought to be looking forward to see where this is heading.
So, where is this heading?
I guess part of what I’m accomplishing with this blog is just practice in writing. To be honest with you, I’ve been writing my whole life. But, I’ve never been intentionally devoted to the practice of it, the actual ‘nose to the grindstone’ work of writing every, single day. My experience over these last forty-plus days has been enjoyable, but also taxing and difficult. But, as far as where the practice is going to get me, it is not my end goal to write one of these blog posts every day until I no longer can.
I want to be a writer, and I guess that the process of being a writer includes, by its definition, being a person who writes (DUH!). I have, for the past forty-plus days, taken time every day to write. That is what currently makes me a writer. I wasn’t doing that before, which is to say that I wasn’t a writer back then, not like I am now.
Similarly, I am not a quilter. I have never sewn a quilt. If I learned next month how to make a quilt, I would be more of a quilter at that point than I am now. But, the question at that point would then be, “What’s ahead for me now?”
I’ve been dreaming all of my life, but especially for the past seven weeks, of being a professional writer, which is as different from being a “writer” as an NBA star is different from someone who shoots hoops at the Y on the weekends. But, that person, shooting hoops at the Y on the weekends, is closer to being an NBA star than the couch potato is; I am closer to being a professional writer than I was two months ago.
Unfortunately, there is no money is writing a blog that no one (except my mother – HI MOM!) reads.
I want to write fiction. And I’ve got a number of ideas for novels. I even have a number of ideas for novels that occur in the same town. I know the town and the people who live in it already –> many of them exist in my head and are just waiting to one day exist on a page. But, I can’t spend the time to write these blog posts and then, add on top of that, the amount of time that I’m going to have to spend in order to have a novel to show for all of my work. One day, I am going to have to quit this blog to start devoting myself to what I really want to do.
But, for now, I will continue to write these posts, as practice. They will put me in the habit, as they already have, of writing regularly. And, with this plan, I have an idea of what is in front of me, visible through the windshield. Also, I can look through the back window and see where I’ve been, if I decide that I want to do that.
But, there’s a third option –the smart reader has probably already thought of it– that exists, between the windshield and the back window. It’s where the cup holders are and the eight speaker stereo is and the power reclining driver seat is. It’s the interior. Just as the interior lies between the windshield and the back window, what lies for me, between what I’ve accomplished in the past as a writer, and what is in store for me as a future writer, is the present. It is in the present that I must do the work of leaving behind what I’ve done and moving toward what is in the windshield.
It Occurred To Me Today 