Okay, so today is the last day of NaBloPoMo (and NaNoWriMo as well, but I kind of already gave up on my project back around November eighth), but I don't feel ready to give up the daily blogging.
Yes, you read that right: I am not ready to give up the daily blogging. As a matter of fact, I rather like it –dry spells and all. I like having the quasi-religious discipline to commit even a small something to virtual paper on a regular basis. I like both the x365 idea of writing a certain number of words about three hundred and sixty five people you may have met in your life, and, more recently,I like Schmutzie's 365 days of grace.
There is some comfort in having a daily prompt or a theme– it makes the entries a little less lost in the vast prairie of writing and it makes the writing flow a little more.
You know, with me there is always a "but". These days, there is a big, fat, lardly "but" with an extra "t" as well, but yes. But.
There is this weird fetish I have for some minor torture or just for feeling like I am not doing it right unless I feel like I should be flying by the seat of my pants every day. Maybe it's not like a cilice or hairshirt because I feel nothing I should be atoning for. However, there is that feeling that if I want to take my writing seriously someday –any day, today, every day– I should be doing daily exercises, instead of doing small sprints and then collapsing on the floor other weeks, too weak to hold myself up.
So. I might join a yearly experiment down the road, but for now I am still in a NaBloPoMo of my own making.
And I'm a little touched in the head as well.