Reflections on the April 2019 A-Z Blogging Challenge
Another year under my wing. Survived… posted every letter even though my last post was a day late. Over achiever? Sometimes we are our own worst critics when it comes to writing. But that is what we do, we write and we read it, and we re-write it over and over again until we think it’s good enough to put out there. After we put it out there, we find something else wrong with it and wish we had read it one more time. Such is the life of the writer.
I loved the challenge. Wish it was two months long … or longer. Ever since I started a real work-at-home job that actually pays me, my time for writing is limited at best. People think because I work at home I have all kinds of time to do whatever I want. Not true. I have a real 401K plan, a real health insurance plan, a real pay check, and a real schedule. That comes with real responsibilities of taking care of things on a timetable and not when I get around to it. I don’t have that 30 minute commute back and forth to work, to think of things to write. I’m busy doing the things that most people who work out of the house pay someone else to do. HOUSEWORK.
I hope to take time to get back into writing more frequently. I love the challenge and am grateful for those who participate and visit each others blogs. The A-Z challenge is somewhat of a jump-start to get you going. Hopefully you will get some people to follow your blog and help encourage you to write. It’s kind of like jump starting a diet except it’s more fun than a diet. You get started and it’s all going well and people are loving what you post. Then it kind of fades away when no one is there to urge you to keep going. You stop posting as often and that’s kind of a drag.
Writing can be lonely and hard and it takes perseverance. But it is also rewarding and enjoyable. I have said it before, write for you. Write what makes you happy. Do it because you want to. Don’t write for someone else. It doesn’t matter what they think or how they would do it. Been there, done that – never turns out well. If they are so good at it, let them write it.
If you want to write, write. It’s like anything … if you can believe it, you can achieve it. Don’t give up. Until next time.
An odd set of earrings hang from one ear,
Under her left eye, a tattooed red tear.
Her clothes are not rags, but somewhat frumpy,
Hailing from town known more than less dumpy.
Attitude is choice and hers is portrayed
By the smile on her face, daily displayed.
No ring on her finger yet to be found
Her prince has not come, ever to be crowned.
Gracing an audience of birds in the park
When the sun comes up until it turns dark
Singing a song from the top of her lungs
Singing the same song in so many tongues.
Those who don’t know her may feel she’s a threat,
She just misses being part of the quartet.
Her mind went astray along with her friends,
The family she had, left with dividends.
She fends for herself and lives all alone
Don’t confuse her with those on methadone.
She was well-known at one point in her life
It wasn’t what you think, just a housewife
She cooked and cleaned and she took care of tots
Until she got lost with trivial thoughts.
So now she just sings a song she once knew,
Of life gone by before she became you.
I was tidying up my work space before I opened up word to start typing and I had to flip the blotter paper on my desk. I always say “don’t start work in a messy work area”. I hate a messy blotter. I used to tell my kids all the time, in fact I would write across the top, “DO NOT WRITE ON THIS BLOTTER!” I don’t know if they wouldn’t read it or what. It never worked. I would forever start my paperwork and try to find a note I wrote to remind myself about something, only to find signatures of my kids all over the blotter. Just their names signed a hundred times over. They are all grown up now so there are no signatures on the blotter.
Now I only find my notes that I have jotted down for myself amongst my husband’s chicken scratch of part numbers or passwords to new accounts and websites that he wants to look at. Once in a while as I’m looking up a word in the old fashion dictionary or my thesaurus I’ll find a piece of scrap paper with one of the kids names scribbled across it, and it reminds me of them writing on my blotter. I hope one day they have kids and a blotter on their desk that their kids can scribble up like they did to mine so often. ☺
Once upon a time, my husband used to have very nice “girly” penmanship. I used to be so jealous because his homework always looked so much prettier than mine. Interesting how things change as we go through life. If we don’t practice things we do well, eventually we won’t do as well at them as we used to. Writing the old fashion letter is one of my favorite things to do and it is such a lost art these days. I think my penmanship is nice…”girly” nice. I love to write. Nice penmanship is important, but I have to practice at it.
Writing on the wall is a thing of the past. Remember bathrooms where we could see who was going to have true love forever? Potsie told Ralph-Malph to sit on it, and for a good time you could call 867-5309! Memorial weekend will be upon us fast and hints that summer will be here soon. No more pencils, no more books… no more teacher’s dirty looks. Oh but wait, there are no pencils and books because the new age is laptops and tablets and notebooks and probably things I’ve never even heard of. Writing on the wall has become a sad thing of the past for most, but not for me. I’ll keep my pencil. I’ll keep writing the old fashion way. Oh and as you are travelling through rest areas check out the walls. I may have been there!