I once thought I was compelled to write. Perhaps that was once true; perhaps it is still. But it is little visible.
I write a lot, of course. I tell seminary students I encounter who are grousing over their next paper that as a pastor my minimum writing load is one 4000+ word essay each week, due every Sunday at 11:00 AM. And it can never be turned in late. So, I do write a lot. But there is a lot that I’d like to write that I never write, and the list keeps growing. I guess I’m at most a compulsive list maker.
I’ve tried to explain in these pages the obstacles I face so there is no need to revisit those tedious considerations. Just know I’m still here, and I’m still planning to make a return.
What’s lacking is not the compulsion, but the discipline, a lack with which most writers are more than familiar. It’s necessity is often noted. Perhaps John Updike is speaking most clearly to my situation:
I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. (John Updike)