The balance between optimism and realism: what will happen to this blog?

I think we all enjoy the chance to read about what our friends are thinking, even when our friends may think their thoughts are boring and irrelevant.  In fact, even when said thoughts are indeed of little use to anybody, they’re entertaining and a way to stay in touch, to a certain point at least.  So, I’m always saddened to find dead blogs filled with promises of “update coming soon!”  On the other hand, I’ve found a number of blogs that have a single post that usually goes something like this: “I probably won’t write on here much, but I thought I’d give it a try.  *last entry, six years ago*”

I don’t want this foray into disposable webwords to fall into either category.  I write about this, then, not to give myself an alibi if I quit posting here, but rather to address something I learned in this past month of excessive noveling: do it now.  

Do it now, edit later.  Planning is good, preparation is good, picking the right path is good.  If I don’t pick a path for fear of choosing the wrong one, though, I have not avoided creating something that is not as good as it should be.  I have created nothing.

Disclaimer: this policy is not a good idea in buying a car, making a baby, or crossing an ocean by raft.

Here’s how author Janet Fitch’s therapist put it: ”I know it feels like you have all these options and when you make a decision, you lose a world of possibilities. But the reality is, until you make a decision, you have nothing at all.” 

As I thought about this topic, it seemed to have limited application.  ”Okay,” my mind said, “so in writing fiction, writing something is better than writing nothing.  What about in practicing an instrument, though?”  Oh, the same thing holds: if I don’t practice today because I think it will be bad practice, tomorrow I will look back and will have nothing.  How about homework?  It’s obvious; do it, just do it.  Fix it later if it needs it, but do it.  

Here’s one that’s close to home for me: what about keeping in touch with people?  I often put off correspondence because I think I’ll do it poorly.  ”They deserve better,” I tell myself.  What do they get?  Nothing.  

So here’s a rule of thumb that these examples seem to suggest.  If we’re discussing finished products that need to be all or nothing or events that can be life-threatening, feel free to think twice.  Breaking the news to Dad that you’re moving to Italy?  Might want to plan that one.  Driving over the Rockies?  Sleep well beforehand.  But in everyday life, those possibilities that paralyze us because we have an image to live up to, because we’re afraid we might fail and — what?  not be loved? — those moments of potential only have value if we make good on them.  After passivity becomes a habit, our bubble of possibility shrinks.  And I have officially slipped into motivational speech lingo…

I’ve written a book.  It’s pretty bad, especially unedited.  I already feel the weight of how bad this book is, and I know it’ll be easy to promise my friends they can read it once I edit it to my satisfaction.  Never, in other words.  But then I’ll have a book that nobody reads, and that image I’m protecting will not be stronger or better, it will be the same as it was before I went to all the trouble of putting 50,000 words on a page.  Or 50,104, or whatever it is.

So what is the answer to the question in the title, what will happen to this blog?  That’s up to me.

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