Invariably, when I run into someone I haven’t seen in a long time, they ask me if I’ve been writing. I respond by tilting my head downward and offering a forced chuckle, like a man who’s just let out an audible fart during a pause in the church scripture reading. Not as much as I should be, I say, and there’s more chuckling until the other person knows to drop it.
No, I haven’t been writing. Until three days ago, when I eulogized my cat, I had not written anything of substance in over a month. This is disappointing to my friends, but it goddamn near crushes me. Sure, I enjoy my days reading and napping and learning Dutch and following whatever onanistic fancy catches my attention, but when I look back over the last year and see how meager my creative output has been, I am depressed.
I have always wondered about my audience, about what sort of people want to read my blog posts. Maybe that’s the wrong approach. I’m not doing this for ad revenue, for clicks and likes and shares. I’m writing because I need to, because it feels good, because when I take the time to write, I can feel proud of myself the rest of the day.
With that in mind, I hereby resolve to write something–an essay, a poem, a review, a play, whatever–on this blog every day in 2017. No days off for illness or vacation. Something new for 365 straight days.
The content of this blog has always varied dramatically, from humor to anger to befuddling self-absorption. That is not likely to change in the coming year. The mood swings may even get worse. But what I want to do, what I hope happens, is to kick something loose within myself and find a larger purpose for my writing. This may or may not happen, but at least I can hold my head up when I run into old friends.