Initially my reluctance surrounding blogging had simple origins. When I first tried blogging my priorities were to finish the novel I was working on and then compose a good query letter with which to ensnare an agent. I had already created a website during the "simmering" period between drafts of "Special," but I continued to edit and add to it, so the website became a new priority. I had also begun taking writing contests more seriously, so this too, took a chunk of my time which was quickly becoming quite valuable. The deeper I got into what it would require from me, to obtain support and recognition as a writer, the less time I had. The gist of this is that at first, lack of time was the main reason for my not blogging, or at least it seemed so.
As a then virgin to blogging, I would sit at the keyboard with either too many ideas on what to blog about or none at all. Then I would type, edit, add, discard and start again. This took time I didn't feel I had.
My time beacame even more precious as my living conditions worsened, and I began taking on sporadic jobs which took up more time and payed less, resulting in the need for more work, leading again, to less time for any writing, let alone blogging.
Now that things have improved, I can see that my reluctance is more often than not stemming from one of two underlying causes:
1. I want my blog to be a good example of my thinking as well as my writing.
2. I also want it to be interesting - to anyone - and to say a lot about me, my personality, beliefs and convictions.
Even though I separate these two, they perhaps are one and the same. I also see procrastination and perfectionism in the two, but again, I know that any procrastination on my part is almost always a result of wanting something to be perfect.
I could go on and on, analyzing more of the detailed intracacies of my various faults and issues, looking at the difference in why I am reluctant to blog, now, as to when I first started, but it's really a farce.
It's still a matter of time, isn't it?
At the risk of jumping the gun, I am going to let my engine jump track briefly, so I can state my truest conviction - one that permeates every aspect of my being these days - that time doesn't exist; that Now is all we have, that it is all there ever has been and ever will be. Over and over again in my writing I keep tackling the same subject - time.
Reluctance cannot exist without time, can it?