I don't remember the last time I sat down to write, creatively, for myself. However I do remember that the last time I wrote, it was long before the world of blogs, social networks, and hell, even cell phones. I used to say that if I stopped writing, I'd go insane and have to be commited. Little did I know that falling in love, getting married and having a kid were going to send me on a 13 year hiatus. Did I go nuts? Yep. Not commited though, so apparently I've flown under the radar. I've thought about writing again more times than I care to count. It wasn't until recently when I mentioned this to a friend, he said "So write again. Just think of it as 13yrs of writer's block."
Is it really that simple? We're talking about tapping into the darkest, deepest crevices of my mind here. What if I can't remember how to tap into it anymore? Do I even have anything to say? Hell, back when I wrote regularly it was never intended to be shared with anyone. With the age of computers, the introspective self has since plugged in and what was once a very personal experience, has become a public event. The thought of anyone reading or listening to anything I have to say is bizarre and a little scary. I know it isn't mandated that I write online, but if I'm on the computer all the time anyhow, it just seems like a practical place to start.
About a month ago, still toying with the idea, I registered at blogspot. I had no intention of starting a blog that day, but I took a step to dip my toe in the proverbial water. Several weeks later, here I am. My first post. I'm sitting here in the kiddie pool with my floaties on. So far, it feels good. I'm not sure how this is going to go, but I'm glad I came out to play.
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