A friend asked me yesterday if I liked to write. That’s a great question. I do, sort of. I like to complete a writing project. I like getting thoughts on paper. I like having a finished product to tweak. But the act of writing itself is hard, and I, like many, tend to avoid hard work. (Steven Pressfield calls this the “War of Art“. I may not be close to the art side of that, but I understand the war involved in any creative endeavor.)
Because writing is hard work, it requires time. Disciplined time. Time I’ve not had much of over the past 3-4 years. So, writing, for me, as some of you will have noticed, with this blog as evidence, has slowed to a trickle.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t constantly have ideas of what to write.
The screenshot, here to the right, is from the wonderful publishing tool I use called MarsEdit. Ideas for posts often get plopped into the ‘local drafts’ folder for later (theoretically) editing and publishing. In reality, they mostly go there to die. At last count, there were 216 posts waiting refinement or death, the latter being much more likely.
I’ll keep writing. It’s like talking for me, something I’ll only be able to give up if physically unable to continue. And if I find the disciplined time, I might begin by rescuing some of those 216 posts.