I'd been swimming in the ethernet, immersed in social networking, finding fabbity stuff, interesting people -
and getting disillusioned about my own writing.
My confidence shrank to the size of an amoeba and swirled down the plughole. I wallowed in the sludge a while, putting up a good fight, but I had to get off-line to save my writing soul. All the clamouring cries to 'look at me!' 'see what I can do!' had to shut up, shut off, and go away.
So I banished myself from it all for what ... 8 months?
Eight whole months of silence and I feel pretty darn good. I do apologize for not being active on your blog, not commenting or posting your link, getting involved at #mglitchat, or drawing your attention to the most awesome The Enchanted Inkpot but I had to get writing. And I am now. It's invigorating to be working hard on my next novel and I'm ready to enjoy dialoguing with anyone that chances upon my blog, or no one at all. I've always been happy to talk to myself! I'm good with unrequited love. Yep, I'm weird that way.
FYI I blog for fun and to alert writers to marvy brillsome writerly-related sites.
I'm only going to put a status update on Facebook when I've got something to tell you.
I'm only going to tweet when I care about the message.
I'm going to enjoy revisiting all my fave blogs and blogees - and today I spent some time with Natalie Whipple at Between Fact and Fiction This post is sure to soothe your writerly angst.
And this one will have you laughing till you leak tears (or whatever). Honest, I visit it as often as I can b/c it is that good: Why Authors are Crazy
Have a great day!
(Now I'm going to figure out how this new LJ upgrade works. Geesh, I disappear for a while and they change everything on me just when I got good at making my page pretty. Suckage.)