It’s been a full week since I’ve completed the NaBloPoMo challenge. I did it for the whole 28 days, just like I did two years ago. There were things I liked about the challenge – and obviously things that annoyed me.
Most of what annoyed me was that I found myself sitting at the laptop around 9:30pm every evening saying, “Shit, I have to blog” and then often pounding something out that was not at all what I would have blogged about had I not been “forced” to put something up. Most times I like to work on my pieces a bit before I publish them – but not in February. I would write ‘em up and push them out.
The other thing I didn’t like about it was that it was only up for one day. Sometimes I wrote something longer or poignant, and more essay-like than blog-like and that would be buried within a day. Pieces like the one about Jake and the one about the Facebook twins. Good reads, but all got buried in the daily blogerific life.
My blog is not just a mommy blog (please no!) and not just a hearts blog (that sort of faded to the background). It’s a documentation of my life – and the pursuit (and stories) of me bringing it to another place. Sometimes, a challenge like this, deters the greater goal in lieu of establishing some healthy blogging habits. (Or maybe not?)
What I liked about it was that at least I was sitting down to write SOMETHING – ANYTHING – every day. I was at least exercising the typing muscles – the rewarding process of converting “blank page” to “page with words.”
It’s interesting, though, that after 28 days of doing it – and taking a week off – I feel like I’m substantially missing something. Maybe it is because it was an eventful life week (dyed my hair; parent-teacher conferences; play date with the cousin twins; oh yeah – and a SURGERY) – or maybe it’s just when you start scratching the itch, it becomes itchier.
My novel that lives in my head is exploding from within me – but there seem to be so many things on my life To Do list, that I push that one away. It needs to come out – for sanity, for resolution, and mostly to say I tried. I could type all about living my dream, but unless I put it out there – for judgment (to be loved or hated) – I’m only living a fantasy.
I look back at my blog and I see a month of consistency followed by a week of vacancy. This is blogging, for what it’s worth. This is the commitment I made – if only to myself. But I have to value promises to myself just as much as to anyone else.