writer’s block

So, how does one begin blogging again?

It’s been a year since I’ve come to Dunblane, and a year since this blog fell into a pattern of weary neglect.  And yet, I can never quite give it up.  I do the same thing to houseplants:  ignoring them for weeks till they turn a sickly pale shade, and then swooping in with over-abundant water and profuse apologies and promises never to let it happen again.

This time, I tried to begin blogging again by redesigning the thing.    Still longing for beauty.  Still foolish enough to think it can be found through Cascading Style Sheets.  WordPress had a whole host of new styles for me.  But none of them helped.  It’s still the same old blog — and actually, I like this old theme that I’ve been tweaking for so long.

So, there is no easy fix.  No fresh look, with which I can spur myself to action.

I shall have to do this the hard way by thinking of things to say.

I celebrated Pentecost by losing my voice.
Through my laryngitis, I preached (in part) about how the Spirit helps us to find our voice:  refuses to let us be silenced.

Do stop and enjoy the irony.

But it occurs to me that that is precisely where I am:
struggling to speak
still believing that it is worth speaking
trying to find my voice.

again.

Blogging as discipline…

But really, that’s about as realistic as telling my plants I will never again abandon them to the desert.   I need your help with this.  A few of you have been very loyal, despite my not writing.  Can you nudge me on the way?

I’m going to try to blog most days again.  (oh dear, how non-committal I’ve become)  But I’m hoping you’ll get me started…

What shall I blog about?

Give me a word, and image, a sentence, a question, and idea.

Each and every day.  By Twitter.  By comments.  By phone.  By email.  What shall we talk about today?

11 thoughts on “writer’s block

  1. Oh dear. Sorry to hear you sound(..er..) so unwell and then some. 😦

    OK. Starter for 10.
    In my landscape photographer capacity, I have a photo that I will not sell, because the moment when I took it was too sacred.

    What places might you look forward to visiting, or are there places that hold special thinness?

  2. YAY!!!

    Prompts, prompts, prompts, I love prompts! (responding to them, not so much, but happily, that is not my task here).

    This might be meta to the point of obnoxious, but it’s the first thing that came to mind (I promise I’ll be back with more – oh yes! *cackles*).

    If your blog was a colour what would it be?

    What clothes would your blog wear?

    If your blog took you on a date, where would you go?

    If your blog was an animal, what would it be?

    And in honour of my pronoun game, if your blog had a gender, what would it be?

  3. Oh, Elizabeth, I can hear that cackle loud and clear. Thank you!

    Stewart — I misread your comment in a most telling way. I read: ‘I have a photo that I cannot sell, because the moment when I took it I was too scared.’

    I’m fascinated by your wanting to keep the scared thing.

    My own line of thought was more about the inhibition of fear.

  4. Kimberly, I wonder if you know how interesting and amusing and insightful your blog is? (And Oh how I have missed it over the last wee while.) I love the ideas that Elizabeth and Tim have suggested. I’m interested in your immediate world, your views on church and politics (here and over there…..) And I love to hear regular updates about Molly.

    In recent weeks I have been journeying on a bit of the same way as yourself, and have been surprised to find how many people are trying to find the right niche for them – especially in this age of twitter and facebook. So keep looking around you in your own special way.

    Blessings on your blogging.
    Btw – how about some new photos of the church (inside and out)?

  5. Welcome back, Kimberly! We’ve missed your words of wisdom. Don’t make it a chore by feeling you have to blog nearly every day. Gestate something deep and beautiful like ‘Fragments’, and then let it go. Courage, patience and peace.

  6. So you have lost your voice—-How sad. Is it not recorded that the Buddha ‘preached’ one of his best remembered sermons in silence not saying a word? Just a smile and a flower, as I remember the story. One reason that I spend so much of my time in total silence, as is so well known

  7. Dear Father Zebadee, I am not so gullible. When you are silent for too long, I know you are either plotting or eavesdropping (for better plotting later on). I suspect it’s a genetic thing, no?

  8. Welcome back. I found your blog through another and I have missed your beautiful and gentle way with words. Fragments left me speechless.
    More of Molly – you sum up the feline thoughts so well!
    I hope you don’t mind, I saved a copy of the easter pulpit. It’s on the wall at work and makes me smile everytime I look at it.

  9. thanks, Shona. I’m delighted that you saved the Easter pulpit. I suspect if I were to post it in my study, it would make me want chocolate (or worse: twinkly, magical moments) every time I looked at it.

  10. What have you been reading? or baking? or preaching?

    I was going to ask about holidays: real or desired, but Tim beat me to it.

  11. Good to have you back, Kimberly. And the Easter pulpit is one of my favourites too. A keeper.

    I was going to ask what you’ve been reading too because I’ve often bought your recommendations and loved them. (Not that I need more books to read!)

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