Like you, I've been pondering this strange thing called "blogging" a bit recently. I very nearly called it quits with this blog recently but decided to just leave it and stew for a while instead. Ultimately I seem to have decided to keep things going, so I suppose that's good for those of you who come here to read this stuff because you enjoy it rather than because you hate me and you're slowly assembler a dossier to clonk me over the head with one day when I'm running for Prime Minister.
Anyway, one I'd stopped writing here frequently I suddenly became unable to figure out how to start again. I kept thinking of ideas but was unable to develop them in my head into fully-fledged posts ready to leave the nest and soar the information superdooperhighway without me. It took me about three weeks to realize that that has always been the case. I don't develop these posts in my head at all.
What actually happens is that I have an idea or two, or maybe not even that - sometimes just a feeling that I need to discover or explore - and I sit down and let things go. That's why it's fun. Planning things is not fun. Doing things is fun.
When I succumb to the urge to plan I usually find myself trying to perfectionize things, which results in a clean crisp dull icy ache in my brain and a clean crisp dull icy ache on the page. Sure, structure is good, and structure is something that is probably a good idea to plan, especially if you're trying to make some kind of point. Fortunately for me I seldom am in such an unfortunate position. I have the liberty of just blabbing all this stuff down onto the page.
And why? Why do I do it? Mostly just so I don't think so much about it any more. Once I notice that there's a post welling up inside me I tend to start to overthink it, which, as mentioned above, kills it. So the more frequently I blab this stuff, the sooner I can launch my unconscious out through my fingertips and onto the screen.
Stand by stomach, here come banana!