Considering the name of my unthemed blog–If You Could Read My Mind–you might be wondering whether I’ve forgotten about it, given it up, or quit thinking. Or whether I’ve had a long stretch with absolutely nothing on my mind. Maybe all four.
I started wondering the same thing myself recently when I looked at the date on my last blog entry. I knew I hadn’t written anything in a while, but three months?
My word! That was an all-time record–even for me!
Some bloggers–we all know one or two–write something new every day. Or invite other people to contribute an occasional post so they won’t have to. Most bloggers post at least three or four times a week–and everybody who deserves the name ‘blogger’ writes at least once weekly. I should be ashamed of myself for my irregularity.
Uh, my blogging irregularity, that is. Right?
But before I go bashing myself semi-publicly, how many of those blogs do I read on a regular basis? Or even occasionally? Easy answer: none. Not even my agent’s, and his would be at the top of my list. I don’t have the time, I don’t want to take the time, or–yes, I admit it–I don’t have sufficient interest in what most people have to say.
Not even some yet unpublished novelist’s advice about those pesky writing rules that must be adhered to, come you-know-what or high water.
Oh, I do receive a few blog posts by e-mail–some weekly and several daily–but they’re so helpful to my non-blog writing and my spiritual life that I don’t really associate them with the blogs they come from.
So what’s wrong with me, anyhow?
Oh, I could make up some fantastic excuses for not writing regularly. Or even more regularly. More than once a quarter.
Here’s how I see it.
Some people give up chocolate or caffeine for Lent. Why not thinking? And having and expressing opinions?
Uh, okay, so most Baptists don’t observe Lent in a sacrificial way, and giving up thinking wouldn’t qualify as sacrificial, anyhow. Besides that, my season of silence didn’t fall within Lent. Not even one day of it.
By now, you’re probably impatient to learn why I bother blogging at all. Only the people who’ve made it this far are worth answering to, though. Since you’re still with me, I owe you a chocolate-covered dog biscuit of appreciation should we ever meet in person.
I blog because published authors are supposed to. Right? Same reason I’m on Facebook and Twitter.
Not really. I love to write, yes, but I’m not going to write just to write. I don’t need to prove I’m capable of self discipline. I wouldn’t have two published novels and six unpublished manuscripts (and another baby on the way) if I couldn’t make myself sit down and write.
Here’s the straight forward truth: If something special is on my mind, I’ll share it with you. But only if it’s sufficiently special that I think it’s of interest to you and is so important to me that I don’t forget to write about it.
Does that mean I have the perfect excuse to write only when I feel like it?
You betcha! Why bore you with meaningless trivia on a regular basis until you’re sick of it when I can bore you less frequently and hope you’ll actually be curious about–and maybe even enjoy–what I say when I do write?
Everybody say, “Amen!” now. And hold out those paws for your doggy biscuits. You’ve earned ’em today.
If You Could Read My Mind. . . 