The old blog well has been a bit dry lately.
And trust me, I have totally psychoanalyzed the shit out of it to determine why.
First, I had a blog idea brewing for earlier this week. And then clicked on one of the many blogs in my blogroll and saw the exact same topic already written out. Rats.
THEN I saw that submissions had been reopened for Story Bleed Magazine. So I did what any narcissistic blogger would do and delved into my archives, searching for a post to submit.
And came up empty.
You see folks, I am not a poetic writer. I realize that I don't hypnotize anyone with my prose. I'm pretty much bare bones. I tell stories. About me. About my life. About being a mother. A wife.
There's not much here that constitutes artistry. A flowing of words that entrances you with their splendor.
So I felt a little down. Defeated. Not good enough.
What am I doing with this space?
It took me a few days to process this.
But then I remembered WHY. Why I blog. What I receive from blogging.
I want my readers to laugh. I want my readers to shake their heads in agreement. I want my readers to understand that they are not alone. That I, like you, have been there. That no one is a perfect parent. That no one has perfect children. That no one has a perfect body. Or a perfect home. That sometimes life stinks. That sometimes motherhood isn't all it's cracked up to be. That this shit is hard, yo.
So that. That's why I'm here, dammit.