1. I’m not lazy. My father used to call it that, but I’ve learned that my focus is a perfect symptom of a functioning depressive. I approach everything with intensity and verve but while I can maintain this far longer than people expect, I will hit an unexpected wall. What I did so avidly has no draw to me and I will either be half-hearted, low performing, or wholly ineffective. BUT, if I set it aside, whatever the task might be, I can return with the same original thrill and focus. In a few weeks, a month, two… but readers don’t like that. It’s inconsistent.
2. I try to avoid describing my life more than I need to. I once had a blog I posted to regularly, so my friends (aware of my strange focuses which make me anti-social for long stretches of time) could enjoy my thoughts and musings, my frustrations and fears. It was cathartic, helpful, and I made internet friends who were funny and non-judgmental. It was amazing. Then my brother found it. Though I never used names other than mine, it was enough. He didn’t like my (valid, it turns out) accusations and felt I was airing family business when I sought understanding with the inescapable dramas my family cast upon me. Drug-addiction, discovery of secrets, lies and betrayal. He threatened me and I was bullied into taking it down. So now, I try not to share much beyond the fiction. It keeps me at a distance and is less easy to find a way to relate.
3. Overseriousness. I have humor, but it’s intermittent. I have dark, brooding thoughts, but those come and go, too. I’m hard to quantify, qualify, or contain as a person or a writer. So nobody can know what to find when I am posting. For people who like surprises, that’s great, but if you read with a desire or intent, I suck. If you want to read the next part of my novel in progress, but I post a sarcastic short story, a sappy or dark poem, or speak first-hand nonfiction, you’ve lost out!
I would say that I’d try to be better, but I’m not sure I will. I’m thinking that instead my blog should come with a disclaimer and a warning label that it is an assumed risk to read my writing. I’d put it in big, friendly blue letters and maybe have the warning flaming and in an annoying popup.
Anyhow, the above covers my non-posting for a time. It’s not you, it’s me.