I've always intended my blog to be a personal journey, more than a publication. In the early days, right after I retired, I penned entries fairly frequently. Then my efforts dwindled and ultimately disappeared. I started again, stuttered, and grew quiet. And for the past several years, I have mostly collected wonderful quotes. I take great pleasure in paging through and reading them, but quoting others is not a replacement for writing.
Writing, like almost any endeavor, requires commitment and practice. No one expects you to play a musical instrument without practicing. No one expects you to play the cello just because you can play the piano (although being able to read music does give you a bit of a head start). Why is it hard to accept that writing takes practice, too?
I play the piano regularly, with only the occasional hiatus. I take lessons because it gives me structure and the pleasure of playing duets with my teacher Barbara. And I'm noticeably more accomplished than I was 8 years ago when I resumed playing regularly. My technique isn't as strong as it was in my youth. Alas, my fingers will never be that agile again, but I make up for it with more mature musicality. Practice doesn't necessarily make perfect, but it definitely contributes to incremental improvement. So, why is it so hard for me to translate that lesson to the art of writing?
My study of the piano has no objective other than pleasure. Although I have occasionally played in public and have contemplated putting together a small recital for friends and family, I am my own most important audience. I do it for myself. I enjoy the effort and the results. Writing should be the same way -- mostly just for me.I read widely and eclectically. One area I've explored is the study of habits -- both making good ones and breaking bad ones. A lesson I've oft heard repeated is that once you have interrupted a desirable habit, it is even harder to re-establish it than it was to build the good habit in the first place. Hard, but not impossible. You just have to start. Take a step. One day at a time, one line at a time, one blog entry at a time.
One of my favorite books, back in my technical writer days, was Writing to Learn by William Zinsser. The subtitle is "How to Write -- and Think -- Clearly about Any Subject at All." Zinsser's premise is that the act of researching and organizing your thoughts to write clearly is the best kind of learning. He also posits that the best material is often produced by writers who are initially ignorant about their subject matter, giving them the ability to explain most clearly. I need to take Zinsser's ideas as my new mantra as I try -- once again-- to build the habit of writing regularly. I'm writing to learn. I'm writing to organize my thoughts and think clearly. I'm writing for me.
So many blogs, so few worth reading... And yet the internet is populated with a few great blogs by people who have information and insight worth sharing. I've taken to surfing the Web a bit more in recent weeks, and I am starting to discover some nuggets. I have stumbled upon travel blogs that are awful, both visually and verbally. But I found a fun site that is primarily a video blog by a young (from my perspective) couple whose livelihood is seeing the world and reporting on it.
As this picture demonstrates, a visually attractive and eye-catching blog post, or, more importantly, the tweet or Facebook post that points to it, can be very effective. Who wouldn't want to read about high-kicking soldiers from India and Pakistan?
I was impressed enough that I went in search of more by "Captain and Clark" and found their blog. They visit great places and inspire me to continue to travel and to embrace the unexpected. The photos are luscious, and their engaging personalities come through in their writing and videos. Indulge yourself whether you're an aspiring traveler or a temporarily home-bound traveler planning your next adventure.
Writing, like almost any endeavor, requires commitment and practice. No one expects you to play a musical instrument without practicing. No one expects you to play the cello just because you can play the piano (although being able to read music does give you a bit of a head start). Why is it hard to accept that writing takes practice, too?
