Anything worth doing is worth taking time to do with due thoroughness. As much as I enjoy the tabula rasa that is blocletters, other demands on my time have squeezed it out over the last few weeks.

Most of those demands help keep shingles over my head and other assorted bills paid. Paying work also helps supply vitamin caffeine, a necessary nutrient.

Blocletters, of course, doesn’t pay. Not that I’m complaining. Part of the thrill in blogging is the sheer love of writing - for myself. This site, like most of its ilk, has a design that forces the writer to produce. If I don’t write, readers get a blank page.

I get a blank page.

That thought is a sword of Damocles gently scratching at my forehead. You see, like many would-be writers, I spend a lot of time trying not to write. The intention to write sits good and true under it all, but then I sit down to the keyboard.

Fingertips aimlessly nudge the keys, not pressing through to make characters appear on the screen. Then, I recall that I need to do laundry. Or the phone rings. Maybe the dishes need doing.

My conscious mind feels uneasy, grabbing for ideas. It can get the better of my subconscious drive to put pixels where they count - out of my head and where people can see them.

Blocletters, for me, provides a way around that pang to do anything but write when I intend to. But, the guilt mechanism isn’t fool-proof. I should know; I’m a fool who needs to just find the time to write more often.