For years I have been looking for inspiration to continue writing. Every time I think I’ve found it, it’s gone again, almost as fast as my wedding ring in Hanauma Bay.  I’ve come up with ideas that I just didn’t feel like sustaining. I have struggled with my desire to write, unable to do so much as maintain a blog.

Blogs.  Blah.  The internet has made everyone a writer, and I’ve had a hard time jumping into the pool.  There are some very good writers out there, many of whom, I’m sure, didn’t know they were naturals with prose until they started to contribute online.  I, somehow, have become the opposite of that scenario.  Although the internet didn’t lead me to stop writing.

I can say it was marriage that made me stop — I share my stories with the wife now, where I used to only share most of them with my journal.

I can say it was career — I may not want a current or possible future employer to see in detail what exactly is in my head.

But ultimately the only gates erected to cause my extended writer’s block have been my own.  I think it’s time to take them down.  Come what may, writing has made me happy (mostly), so I need to start doing it again.

Consider this Page 1.


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