My Life on a Plate

Burn Out

Not having any inspiration to make a blog entry this new month hasn't been a big concern, as I know from experience there are times when life is very uneventful and inspiration doesn't strike. I have no ambitions to complete a blue month or make contrived entries just for the sake of it and am content to just read other's blogs and comment where appropriate.

Having completed that task this evening I've spent some time editing a few pieces in my portfolio and come away feeling rather sad. It was an experience rather akin to looking through an old photo album of dearly departed relatives or listening to old records and thinking of the times associated with them.

It's not that I think my own creations are masterpieces or anything special. But I'm quite amazed at the amount and diversity of the things I've written. I've remembered how some pieces were praised in my creative writing class, how others made people laugh, the ones which have won contests or been published and I'm left wondering what's happened to me.

I have not written anything new this year at all. I've made plenty of blog entries and written the odd piece for Newsletters but have avoided sitting down and wrestling with anything more challenging and I'm not sure why. Admittedly, my parents and my fitness program are taking huge chunks of my time, but when I do get a few free hours, the motivation to write just isn't there.

I'm not short of ideas. I have lists of them and know there are many contests, both on WDC and elsewhere I could enter. I have lists of publishers I could send out my work to but something stops me doing it. I don't hold with muses or writer's block; writing is hard work and we are solely responsible for what we do or do not produce.

I feel I'm letting people down. My sister, my ex boss, my friends have supported and encouraged me with my writing for years and await the novel they all say I have within me. My portfolio is rarely visited and I haven't received many reviews in ages, but that is down to my own lethargy.

I've tried the writing class again but sadly it does not stimulate or inspire me any longer. I'm on my own now and if I'm going to write again, I need to give myself the proverbial kick up the backside. I know I will never stop writing one way or another, but as time moves on, I'm starting to doubt I have the dedication or patience needed to produce anything of any length or depth. I hope this is just a temporary phase.

Maybe I need to start drinking again. lol In the meantime, I shall content myself with reading the fine words of others and hope their enthusuiasm rubs off. And that's as much as I can manage today, poor sad writer that I am.