It’s really a rather ironic thing about loving to write… it seems like it must come with the gift of dreaming up an unending list of excuses for not writing. It seems like there are plenty of ideas, but none of them good enough to write more than a paragraph about. Or they only come when I’m busy. Or when I’m feeling down. Or when I’m too tired. Or when I can’t get to my computer. Or sometimes I set time aside just to think and write, and no good enough ideas come. And I end up writing a post about why I don’t write.

Thankfully, writing a post about why I don’t write has proven something to me: Despite my many excuses, I do still love it. Maybe I’ll visit more often.

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