I have been giving my blog a lot of thought lately. I have been all guilt-ridden for not posting as frequently as I think I should. As frequently as I really ought to if I want people to keep reading it.
I have still been reading a few others' blogs because they bring me joy to read. I look forward to reading posts from these people. Not out of any sense of obligation, just because I like to read what they have to say.
In doing this, however, I have come to a realization about my writing. It is a realization that I've already had in other aspects of my life, but not about my writing.
This realization? Makes me rather sad.
In other areas of my life, I never had any real passion for the subject, so the realization wasn't so bad. About my writing? I am sad. For this is one thing I have always loved and have believed that it was something at which I was at least moderately adept. I have believed that with practice and hard work? I could take moderately adept to some kind of wonderful.
But practice doesn't replace ability. Practice only refines what is already there.
My realization? Is that I'm just not meant to create. I am unable to craft something from nothing.
I know this ability when I see it. I'm the daughter of a creator. I'm the wife of a creator. I'm actually the ex-wife of a creator, too. And I? Am not a creator.
What I can do? Is see what makes something a worthy creation. I know talented versus well-trained but passionless musicians when I hear them. I know good photography when I see it. I know an artist with genuine talent when I meet them. I know good when I see it. I see the qualities of their gift and their passion that allows them to create something wonderful from the depths within themselves. But I do not have these qualities within myself. When I look inside myself? I do not see those raw materials that, with inspiration, create beauty. My depths are full of feelings and mush that all turns to imitation goo when I try to do anything with them.
I had hoped that maybe I just didn't have creative musical ability or creative artistic ability or creative photographic ability or the ability to create pretty solutions to problems. I had hoped that my lack of creative gift was because I hadn't found the right "thing" yet. I don't think that's it. I think it is more a general lacking of the ability to create.
What I can do? Is tinker with something existing. I can tweak stuff to make it a little better or a little different, but I have to have something to start with. Someone else has to do the creating before I can do the tweaking.
I guess I'm a tweaker. Isn't that lovely.
So where does that leave my illustrious blog? I don't know. I'm a bit of the competitive sort, and I'm not real big on propagating mediocrity. While I never had any dreams of quitting my job & writing for a living, I still prefer to be among (or at least in the same ball park as) the best if I choose to do something.
I said I started this blog for myself, and that was mostly true. But honestly? There was a part of me that wanted my writing to blossom into something beautiful. Sadly though, while I gave it my best, it has kind of withered, like so many of the plants I've tried to nurture over the years.
Ironically, I'm going to try gardening next spring. Let's not discuss my head and its sandy location.
Please understand that I'm not fishing for anything. For the most part? I keep my self-pity fishing pole stored under my bed for occasional use on Hub when I need a little verbal stroking & he's not getting the hint. Comment as you like, but I'm not trying to incite anything. I feel as if I need to explain why I have not posted lately, as well as mourn a dream. My realization was a surprise to me & hit harder than I would've expected.
Will I continue to post? Possibly. Even probably. Writing is a compulsion for me, regardless of it's quality of content. But it has become like that friend you have. And you really want to take it to that level beyond friendship. But that friend? Has other ideas. Other loves. The friendship means to much to me to abandon completely. But I am sad that we cannot have the love affair that I had hoped for.