How to See the Sun Rise

It's been 3 years since I've been here. If the virtual world collected dust, I imagine I'd need a broom for this space. I've thought about coming back often. With witty follow ups and gentle reproofs to my readers for not worrying more as to my fate following my hot yoga class. I really loved blogging. And I wanted to come back. But before I knew it, it had been a couple months - and I drifted away; like a relationship that ends without an actual break-up. And then it had been a year - and I felt like I'd failed. And then two passed - and I thought there's no way I can come back from that gracefully. And then it had been three - and I thought...maybe. And then it had been three years and one week - and the ashes had cooled enough to rise from them. Resurrection is a heady word. One that necessitates some sort of death. And so I choose caution. And excuses. And fear. I choose worrying about the judgement of others, and especially of myself. These are the thin...

I am scared of writing Fiction.  Terrified.  I confess this to you because I feel it may be a minor hiccup in writing my novel (see previous, previous post).  I liken it to singing in front of large groups of people and crossing non-suspension, medium height bridges.  for the love of God, child, run faster! Blogging is only sort of scary.  Sure, I am putting myself out there, but it's just me.  It's how I talk if I took an hour and a half to say three paragraphs and I got to edit each word.  It's pretty much just like hanging out if I was the only one who ever got to talk and my thoughts were the only ones that mattered.  Fun for all.  But Fiction.  Fiction is different.  Fiction is investing in the part of you that dares to dream and opening it up for all to judge.  Yipes.  Over the last several years I've scaled back on giving my dreams a voice.  It's tough times for hopes and wishes ...