I blogged last week because I could say that I was having a good time writing. Because I was writing a lot. Then I had a whole week where nothing seemed to go writing, in terms of writing. I wrote about the same amount in the whole week as I wrote each day the week before.
It didn't seem fair to come here and say things are going well and then not come here when they aren't.
I could make a million excuses and in my head, trust me, I am, but I'm not going to do that here. There isn't an excuse good enough to explain why I just don't or can't write sometimes. Even if there are excuses, none of them are good.
I was sitting here for a while, after that last paragraph, unsure where to go. I'm in my backyard and it's warm but not hot and it's sunny but I'm in the shade and it's just wonderful. I'm listening to Atlas: Year One, an album by Sleeping at Last and watching my wife play with the dogs and the dogs play with tennis balls.
While all of this was going on, a song called Lights came on and it has a recurring lyric: "I'll do better."
And I will.