I don't know how many times I've been told that I need to start a blog. So why have I resisted for so long? Is it the number of hours spent writing stories and papers as an English major? Nah, that was 15 years ago (almost!). Is it the fear of exposing myself to the masses and falling short of my hopes, broken, rejected and unread? No, so far this feels more like a diary or journal than something I expect anyone else to care about. So then, why? I think it may simply be the commitment of time. Writing on a regular basis obviously requires contemplation, coherent thought, and the time seated before the computer with hands available for on-going typing. And up until this point, I have been doing everything in life expecting to be interrupted. Planning to be interrupted and how to continue working around the interruptions by including my children in what I'm doing, or knowing that they will have to be distracted for the time left until I can finish. I know that there will still be those interruptions, but I am agreeing to give myself the leeway to work around them, and to not expect immediate perfection in this, a new enterprise.
