Pine needles in my underpants

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The thing about blogging is that there’s no room for my Type A, perfectionist BS.

I literally have five blog posts on my desktop right now. Five. All are about three paragraphs away from being done. Two are about the wedding I was in two weekends ago. One is about my dogs. One is about my mother (yikes!), and one is about my sudden desire to run a bison ranch in Hungry Horse, Montana.

All five were abandoned because the flow wasn’t right.

The flow.

I know that sounds like something a guy wearing a poncho and sandals would say, but it’s the absolute truth. When the flow ain’t right, I can’t write. I don’t even know what “the flow” is, but I feel it and, when it’s off, there’s nothing that can be done to make it right.

However, looking back on these blog posts, they’re actually not bad. Even when the flow was off, the writing wasn’t terrible. They’re certainly no worse than this blog post. In fact, at least one is considerably better (I’ll try to get back and finish it off shortly).

As much as I realize no one is perfect, I not so secretly really want to be perfect. So, I start blog posts I don’t finish. I buy vegetables I don’t eat. I harbor guilt about not flossing every night. It’s ridiculous and self-defeating. In fact, it may be what’s killing the flow.

So, I’m off to finish a real blog post and I guarantee it won’t be perfect. In fact, I bet there will be at least one typo, two clichés, and a mixed metaphor. Hmph!

(Thanks to Jo for the kick in the ass!)