I got a reminder when I logged in here today, that I have reached my one-year anniversary with WordPress. One year of blogging. I feel an obligation to comment on this. To blog about it.
One year sounds like a long chunk of time, but it has been an inconsistent span. I have made 98 posts, which sounds like big number (and today’s post will be number 99), but spread out over 365 days it is less impressive.
In comparison, I pulled up my tumblr stats. (I run a tumblr just for the daily television listings — it’s a personal thing just for my friends, so I do not publicize it.) I have made 798 posts there. SEVEN HUNDRED and 98 posts! It is a habit that has been a priority of mine for over two years now, and I have never skipped a day. That fact alone tells you a lot about my hobbies and my passions.
I have been a dabbler in this world of blogs and writing, fiction and NaNoWriMo. I still think about my novel(s), but I rarely put any work into it. I still have dreams, but I rarely write them down in my journal, and I haven’t felt compelled to blog about them. I still read about altered states of consciousness, synchronicity and reality, but I have nothing new to add to what I have already written. This blog has lost its focus and has grown stale.
My stats here tell me I have 45 followers. I have no idea how most of you found me, nor whether I have lived up to your expectations. Would you like to read more “fiction sprints” or mind-trippy musings about the nature of reality? Shall I tell you about my work day?
I found a text file on my computer where I had been jotting down ideas for topics to blog about. It was supposed to be my bucket to dip into when I lacked inspiration, back when my goal was to write *something* every day. Some of the entries are simply a few cryptic words, and I no longer remember what the phrases were supposed to remind me to write about. I have not added to that text file in many months.
After this past NaNoWriMo, a few of us in my local region decided to form a writers’ group, meeting one Saturday out of every month. Has it really been five months since NaNo ended? Has the group met only five times so far? I had attended every one until this month, when my new job scheduled me to work on that Saturday. In that span of time, I think I’ve added only a few paragraphs to my work-in-progress. It turns out that I enjoy talking about writing more than I do actual writing.
Then I let myself get away with another blog post of rambling and call it a day.