Sometimes the best intentions aren't met with the greatest of enthusiasm

Dianna mentioned in her blog that when we first started dating I would write all the time. Looking back, I did write all the time. At times it was sublime how everything just melded together and then came the times of total suckage.

So I got to thinking about all those abandoned notebooks collecting dust either on the bookshelf or taking up gross amounts of space in a long ago forgotten drawer. I've filled these notebooks and journals with little snippets here, poems there, and the start of many conversations that could eventually be pulled together and somehow made into a best selling novel. I've always had this secret ambition of being the next David Sedaris, obviously female, but I could never get myself to that point of writing. I could never realize the concept of grabbing those thoughts and somehow weaving them through page after page of anecdotal humor. I couldn't get past the thoughts in my head being funny only to me. Self-sabotage reared it's ugly head time and time again, I suppose. what made me leave the writing behind? I didn't replace it with anything, I just stopped.

I'm not promising to write everyday, I wouldn't want to break it within the first 48 hours. I will promise to use this forum as a bouncing board, so to speak, of past writings. If I'm able to spew out new material through this process, so be it.