Re-starting to write. Again.

The less often you write the harder it is start.

I notice this all the time.  For example: blogging.  Sometimes I want to write everyday, or even multiple times a day.  I definitely come up with enough ideas to write that much, so why don’t I?  Time.  Responsibilities.  But mostly, because when I stop writing all the things I want to write get in the way.

Since I last wrote I played music at the Medford Farmer’s Market for two hours straight.  I played through every piece I’ve written in the past five years, received my first tips as a musician, and wasn’t nervous!  I also stumbled upon a park that had been knitting-bomb where sweaters hugged trees and little hats sat on top of each of the spikes in the fence.

After that I had a trip to the art store and faced the perilous decision of saving money or buying supplies.  (Spoiler, I bought the supplies).  My next few knitted canvasses have been gessoed and I’ve been knitting away to make more.  I’ve applied for jobs, had incredible dinners with creative people, and started at least two more projects.

In a list like this, each of these incidents may not seem all that interesting, but I could have written a post or more for each.  It’s exactly these little, seemingly inconsequential things that add up to a life and a life is what I want to share, a creative life.

I don’t know if I’ll get back and cover what I’ve missed during the time when the magnitude of possibilities stopped me from writing.  But at least if I write today, there’s a greater possibility that I will write again tomorrow.