It’s been about a month since I’ve felt like writing. I’d written something for Daily Life – it was an interesting and important topic – and that was the last thing that left my heart beating with excitement after the words made sentences, paragraphs and then a story.
I’ve got many ideas. There is never a shortage of issues to write about. There are so many that I worry someone might pip me at the post and write an article on that topic before I do! But I’ve also got a case of the can’t be bothereds. I’d rather be doing nothing than writing at the moment. Life is busy. When I get home from work, writing is the last thing I feel like doing. Weekends are filled to the brim with outings and errands and naps. Writing has taken a backseat.
Outside influences have definitely contributed to my literary malaise. They shouldn’t but they do. Criticism is an occupational hazard.
I’ve been told I’m a shit writer. (And on the same day I filed $2800 worth of invoices. Success is the best revenge.) I am criticised for starting too many sentences with I and And. Is that all those readers got from my writing?!
A blog reader sent me an email about how disappointed they were when they met me. Signed it with two kisses. Ouch.
And last week I read a piece about the pitfalls of activism by disability activist Emily Ladau. I feel this way a lot. It’s one reason I haven’t felt like writing a lot lately. I worry people without disabilities think activism is aggressive, or that it makes them uncomfortable. And “I should always wear an activist hat” implies we are grumpy and always on the lookout for things to be offended at (to an outsider). But I won’t stop raising important issues. Because as Martin Luther King Jnr said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
The way others feel about me shouldn’t matter, but they do. Us writers are sensitive souls. And I hate blogging about not blogging, though at least this is something.
I wondered if I’d ever give up blogging? Will I just run out of puff? Maybe, but not now. I’ll be lost for words until they come again, and that’s ok. The passion is still in me, I know it. I’ve done a few exciting things (interviews, Twitter chats and workshops) recently and talking about blogging gives me a buzz like talking about my fiancé does.
See you when my words come back. Soon I hope.