Why my blog posts are few and far between
You may have noticed I don’t blog as often as somebody doing good author-blogger-speaker promo is supposed to. I blog with an irregularity that often makes me cringe before my social-media guru husband.
I could give you a sob story of the reason you’d expect—life is so dang busy. I’ve got two kids, a PhD program, a husband working full time, speaking engagements, church involvement, four chickens, a rabbit, a fish, and a a huge commercial garden in our yard (which I don’t run, thankfully).
Instead I’d rather talk to you about the better reason.
I love words.
I love the power of crafted, thoughtful, dare I say inspired words.
I have come to be honest with myself. Those kind of words don’t promise to show up at my fingertips whenever I want them.
I am a full devotee of the concept of a Muse.
Back a couple centuries, writers used to think it was smooth to start out their big important writing by invoking the Muse, thanking their Muse, admitting they’d be nothing without the Muse. Correct me if I’m wrong (those of you who have studied literature more recently than my 13-year-ago degree in English lit), but I think good old blind John Milton actually invoked a Muse before he wrote Paradise Lost, the big fat Christian poem he supposedly wrote in one long sitting by the miraculous power of God. His Muse is not just from some Greco-Roman mythological deity, it’s a Christianized way of talking about how dang hard it is to write.
Those writers got it right: writing isn’t something that we have any right to claim to do well by our own power. It’s sucky hard. It always seems so ludicrously unlikely that I should ever have anything to say worth sharing on the WorldWideMonstrosity.
If I do stumble on something you needed to read today, it is most definitely through a supernatural power. The fundamentalists would make me call it the power of Jesus. I prefer to envision that power like an elegant lady in an emerald green gown who floats into my bedroom on occasion to sing a haunting tune that gets me out of bed to go take dictation to her spoken word art.
I’m not saying I sit around and don’t do anything with words until the green lady shows up. I am about the most regimented student/writer you’ll ever meet. From the moment my kids leave school until the moment they return home, I am at my computer or with book in hand or on a bus or in a classroom getting article-reading and paper-writing done, muse or no muse.
Most often I work by the power of a different deity anthropomorphism. I call him Hard Work. He looks more like Mr. Clean with a big wooden paddle he whacks me in the butt with every morning.
But just because I get up and have to write and read and study every day doesn’t mean I should subject you to all to the misery of reading what I might spew out on a given morning if I were required to write to you with greater frequency than I currently manage. You deserve better. In fact, I believe you deserve less.
The internet is full of more. Oh, so much, much, writing. One of my great fears about the future of the world is that Google will get so filled up with pages of links to crap like this (you know you can’t resist that link) that the actual quality stuff out there gets lost forever on the third and fourth pages of Google searches. I know it happens already.
But I resign to be somebody who might get lost on the third page of Google searches, but who writes stuff well worth reading for those of you who have dug down deep enough to find it. I appreciate you beyond words. I feel deeply the responsibility I have to you. I want to give you more than regurgitated news-vomit.
I hope you are also with me in believing that writing doesn’t have to be new to be good. Another of my biggest fears is that we as a society will base such a great portion of our reading on search tools that are determined by what is new that we’ll miss the good old stuff. And by old, I don’t mean just way back to Milton (he has long since been somebody read only by freaks and students fearing for their grades, and that’s a great loss). I mean old like last Thursday.
So instead of more frequent blog posts, I happily offer you a reminder of the obvious, if you’re a blog reader. There are those cool categories and tags over in my right-hand column. You can click them, and you can read stuff I wrote a year ago, and most likely it’s no worse than it was when I wrote it. If you’ve already read everything I’ve written here (bless your heart, I don’t understand you), go find somebody’s else’s good blog.
There’s more than enough. Praise God, the Muse is out there; she has not stopped working. She’s out there spreading the love around while I get some sleep.