I've been slacking off.
One glance at my blog and you'll notice I've not been posting as much as usual. I've allowed the heavy lifting to be carried by my guests. Amazing women, each of them, with incredible stories of love, life, strength, and loss. One is a world class musician. Another on the cusp of publishing her twelfth novel with a large traditional publisher. Or is it her thirteenth? Yet another is a survivor of the kind of crimes I write about and am thankful I've never experienced. Cancer survivors. A mother who lost children. Accomplished and talented authors round out the mix. In truth, I've been a bit intimidated by them.
I don't know about you, but when I'm intimidated, I pull inside of myself. Think turtle in a shell. Soft on the inside. Hard on the outside.
So, my personal posts have been less frequent. Blog slacking at its ugliest.
The truth is, I'm wondering what it is I have to add. I don't want to add to the noise of the internet. I don't want to be the static one tunes out in order to hear the crux of the broadcast.
The time spent huddled in my shell has been restorative. I've made good progress on my third book, written a couple of short stories, made a few friends, sold a few books. All the while, I've wondered what the Next Great Idea would be. I've lazed under the weight of The Task. How would my thoughts compare to what my guests have written?
What should my next post be about?
I don't know for sure. Maybe I'll post a tidbit on marketing or a snippet of personal life that I pasted into a story. What I do know is that I write for me, because I have to. Writing is as essential as breathing.
This blog is my exhale, readying me for the next breath.