Happy Friday from someone who *hates* to update her blog.
I hate it so much I feel my body clench up at the thought. That’s ridiculous, because I love to write. I just don’t want to write the damn blog.
I think it comes down to expectations. Like I think every stupid blog post should be the one that catapults this sucker to viral infamy. If the thoughts crossing my mind aren’t up to that standard, why bother committing them to blogdom at all?
With no better reason than that I need to update the damn blog, here’s what’s going on in my thoughts this Friday AM. Lately sometimes I feel old. Don’t get me wrong, I still text with my thumbs and go to rock shows and spend a lot more time thinking about my next tattoo than about retirement planning. But I’m grumpier about almost everything than I used to be. I’m hitting critical mass on how many friends and acquaintances I’m willing to juggle. And sometimes I feel like I’m no longer learning.
This makes me sad. Learning is fun. It’s fucking exciting. It’s sexy. Reading this article reminded me of that feeling, and made me think specifically about how we continue to learn to shape our writing craft, years after we think we’ve got it nailed. For me those leaps of learning come from reading a kick-ass book and seeing something new a writer has accomplished, something that makes me jealous enough to try emulating it.
Here are a few recent reads that made this cranky old grump feel awesome about learning again: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, The Orphan Master’s Son, Wintergirls, Winter’s Tale, and The Birthday of the World. Don’t let me forget The Sugar Frosted Nutsack.
Here’s a photo of a cactus flower!