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Last night, as I sank into my cozy bed surrounded by my two favorite girls aka the Basset hounds and the remote control, I surfed the channels.  Stumbling upon The Hallmark Channel, I stopped and immediately got sucked into the story.  The premise was a writer who was struggling to write her next book and a chef who was reinventing himself.  I don’t have to tell you anymore as the ending was more predictable than the weather.   I rolled my eyes at how effortlessly she wrote her book once she had met this particular man.

I muted the television and reached for my laptop thinking that because I watched this, the great American novel would spill out of my core.   Of course, I sat there staring blankly at the screen.  My confusion lies as to what I am suppose to write.  I have dabbled and have files of saved projects that never quite feel right.  I want to create something that has meaning, and there in lies the problem – writing for pleasure has taken a vacation and now all I want to do is write for the wider audience.   Way too much pressure and frankly, that takes all the fun out of it.

If I have learned anything, it is the realization that when I do anything for the admiration or affirmation of others, then I need to stop and figure out why.  You see, my writing has been a source of purging, comfort, therapy, and humor.  When I write my blog, I don’t just do it to appease others, I do it for me.   Selfish?  Not really.  My best work is when I have something to really share instead of doing it just to fulfill the action.  That goes for anything in life – I must be fully invested or the action is empty.

Did I write last night?  A little, but the substance was weak.  I am in the process of figuring out what kind of writer I am.    Until those pivotal questions are answered, I will stick with  writing when the feeling moves me.  Timing is essential.  Forcing it removes the substance.