I have tried to post, I have. So you know I'm not lying, here are a few titles of articles sat in my Drafts folder:
- July Update 2021
- Wrap Up: November & December 2021
- Getting Back to Basics
- How to create fictional towns
I know I don't actually have anything to prove and that if I don't want to post anything I don't have to. But somehow, even in this empty void, I still have some guilt attached when neglecting this blog.
It goes something like;
You're a writer, all writers have blogs. You need to write yours otherwise you don't count.
Now... I know that this is not actually true. And that I can do whatever the hell I want. And that it's mentally damaging to assign rules to what being a 'writer' means. But the thought often wafts around in my mind.
This year has just flown by, I still can't quite believe we're in August. Time is absolutely moving in the most random way. When it moves fast, it is FAST and when it moves slow, it is... You get the idea.
I'm 30 now, so maybe this is the way time passes in my old age and it's only going to get more erratic and continue give me ripples of whiplash until the day I die. Which hopefully won't be until I'm a Gandalf-esque pensioner with strange stories that I tell strangers about the time I road a water buffalo through a secret forest meadow. Or whatever.
I think this is as much as I can't muster for today. I'm actually just going to post this now, as is, just so I can say I did it. I don't really know what take away point I'm hoping you readers get from this.
Maybe that it's alright to do You. And that if you assign rules to the things you love it makes them feel like work. And also that time moves oddly but that you can't prepare for it.
Thanks for reading!