Forget the frustration, let's just write already.

I was pacing around my apartment feeling frustrated as a blogger, because I’ve been doing this in fits and starts, never quite managing to be consistent. Not being sure if I’ve “found my voice” or if I even know what that means. I signed up for NaNoWriMo on a whim, but the month is half over, and I’ve got nary a word to show for it.

This started as a fashion blog, and my personal style has been off the wall lately, but I haven’t been getting photos because my crappy camera broke, as crappy cameras are wont to do. And I had internet because I was going in halvsies with my neighbors, but then they abruptly decided to stop that. So I’m internetless again. Note to self: Put a camera on my wish list and move to a town where monopolies don’t drive even the cheap internet up to $40/month. If such a place even exists anymore.

And, even though my boyfriend is a photographer, he lives 30 miles away, still in his mom’s house, because that's where he landed when his wife died and he moved back up here to be closer to his family. The deal on the house he was going to purchase fell through, and housing prices in Plainfield are horrendous anyway. I see him on weekends if I’m lucky. So we’ve basically both been feeling like thwarted people in both romantic and creative senses.

But yeah. I remembered just now that nobody wrote a rule that you have to write only when everything is perfect. Which I frequently remember, but then I forget again, and then we go a month or three without me saying anything at all. Well, Allie Brosh didn’t write for nearly a year and a half, and nobody’s calling her a big fake.

So this isn’t the year that I’m going to write the Great American Novel. But I can still write every day. I can flip my middle finger right in the face of the Impostor Syndrome that keeps telling me I’ll never go anywhere as a writer, and finish those drafts that have been chilling unfinished for more time than I care to think about.

Things are actually pretty stupendous right now. Maybe I got more out of the recent social media hiatus than I thought. In any case, it’s Monday evening right now, and I’m thinking this is a good time to commit to writing every day this week. Just to see what happens if I do. Maybe I’m too old to be that capricious kid who updated her LiveJournal 4 times a day, but I’m too young to be out of thoughts.

So that’s what we’re doing this week. I’m going to vomit words onto a screen for five days, because I hung out with a two year old all this past weekend, and so right now I feel like structure is boring. Maybe I do better when I quit overthinking anyway. I haven’t really stuck with it long enough in the past ten years to find out.