3 Powerful, Made-For-Writers Playlists You Should Hack

flow

Flow is a subjective state that people report when they are completely involved in something to the point of losing track of time and of being unaware of fatigue and of everything else but the activity itself.”-  Quote from Talented Teenagers: The Roots of Success and Failure 

I have a restless mind. I can’t  read anything for ten minutes without losing focus and switching to something else. And it’s worst online. I am convinced online reading is responsible for this distracting, unsettling habit I’ve cultivated.

I am not sure what causes it, except that it is worst when I am having a depressive episode, and that is understandable, considering the chemical imbalance that depression creates in the brain. (The last eight months I have been dealing with a most stressful experience that sapped much of my brain power, concentration and motivation.)

But I am a writer, and for writers, being controlled by a restless mind is one counterproductive habit that’s a major deal-breaker. Try adding writer’s block to that. On a bad day, I may not get anything done. Sometimes, as my readers here will notice, these ‘dusty days’ have extended for months.

The consequence? Everyday I don’t write delays my dream of getting my freelance writing business off the ground. My confidence plummets. I lose writing flow. My vocabulary becomes constricted. My blogs become ghost towns and I become frustrated with myself for not making the progress I should as a writer.

How I Plan to Get my Groove Back like . . .

But Stella got her groove back, and I’m dead-set on getting mine too. (Ok, ok, maybe the method may not be as erotic… nevertheless I am gonna find a way to recapture the flow I desperately need to get my writing groove back.)

So I am on a journey to find solutions to help myself beat this thing. I am open to ideas from the experts in this writing business.

Over the next six weeks, I will challenge myself to test a few of the free (I have no money, remember) tools and hacks other writers have recommended, plus those I hope to discover  for myself along the way.  I’ll share how each is helping a dusty writer find her inspiration and get her writing groove back.

Playlist #1- Music To Listen To While Writing Essays, Papers, Stories, Poetry, Songs

Today, I’m starting with music.

Why music?

Calming music has always been a good antidote for my stressed mind.

So just before I knocked out this post a short while ago, I headed to Google. I entered the long tail keywords “music to help writers focus while writing,” and landed on YouTube. YouTube account, Soundings of the Planet comes up first in the Result pages, and I choose the first song in the 7-track playlist. It’s entitled Music To Listen To While Writing – Essays, Papers, Stories, Poetry, Songs. There are 7 tracks. It’s 47:03 minutes long, and is a series of beautiful instrumentals by Dean Evenson (www.soundings.com).

The titles in Track Listing looks promising:
1) Pure Light Mind – Meditation Moods
2) Calming Insight of Ourselves – Meditation Moods
3) Touch of Grace – Sound Massage
4) Timeless Spirit – Sound Massage
5) Pondering the Lotus – Peaceful Pond
6) Welcome to my Pad – Peaceful Pond
7) Water Caress – Peaceful Pond

So does the 641,372 views it has attracted. I press ‘Play‘ to see whether this music will deliver on the claim in the playlist titles.

Easy Listening. Check.

As I write this sentence, I am now 27 seconds into the video and I am still on task. Can I finish this post by the time the video ends? Stay with me to find out.

The selection of songs are relaxing. That’s the first noticeable thing. Most of the sounds seem to be piano and violin. Between the stringed instruments, I can hear what sounds like croaking bullfrogs and twittering birds; nature’s music is cleverly integrated. The sound massage the composer intended is working.

From one song to the next, the music is quiet, melodic, never jarring. It’s definitely mood music, easy on the ear and calming to my nerves.

And so far, words are flowing, which is definitely another plus for this solution.

Of course, it helps if you like instrumental and classical music. If this is not your type of music, then this will probably bore you to tears. But it works for me because I’ve always loved classical and instrumental music.

Evocative journeys for your writer’s mind

The sound massages evoke images. In the last 3 minutes of the track, I am transported by the sensory blend of oriental chimes and nature sounds to romantic places in my imaginings: a rugged, open, mountain vistas, birds making sleepy calls as a dusky sunset settles across the landscape as a lone rider on  horseback treks quietly across the desert home. I can see how a writer could get her groove back listening to this music for writing tracks.

The track ends and I have successfully completed a new blog post, breaking the long months-long writing fast  on this blog. Yeaaah. Music To Listen To While Writing – Essays, Papers, Stories, Poetry, Songs definitely gets my voteHere’s the link if you’d like to listen for yourself.

 

Playlist # 2: Music for Writing 1- The Phantom Music

Writers are listening to and liking this type of music for work, as you’ll see by the comments on the YouTube page. While you are there, check out Music for Writing 1 The Phantom Music, 1:49 minutes of curated music writers commenting on the page attest is successfully helping them. One writer wrote, “This helped me through major writers’ block I can’t tell you how many times. Thank you a million times over,”while another writer said, “Aiming to reach my 100,000 words in my novel. Six thousand left to go. Wish me luck!”

Playlist #3 – Music for Writing 11: Attack of the Music 

Other playlists on the page explore other genres and mix instrumentals with popular songs. Maybe Phantom’s epic theme music selections from the Lion King or Harry Potter movies or the strident tracks in Music for Writing 11: Attack of the Music will give you the writing gears you need to vanquish that 100,000-word novel, difficult speech, college paper, or 17-page creative writing project you have to complete in the next few hours.

Takeaway from Music Hack

So the result of Test 1 is conclusive. Music, not just any music, but instrumental music along the tone offered by this YouTube track does it for me. If like me, you suffer from Distracted writer syndrome (my coinage) as I’ve described, I’d recommend this music as a solution. If instrumental, easy listening is what you are after to quieten the noise in your brain, then try out this Youtube playlist.

Remember I’m hunting for solutions, so why not leave a comment sharing the writing focus hack that works for you while writing. Sharing will help other writers overcome this debilitating writing issue.

 

 

 

 

Pssst…. 

I’m Karen Taylor, a professional blogger, writer and online journalist based in Portmore, Jamaica. Thanks for stopping by. Need help with your next writing project? Reach me at gee4214@gmail.com. I’m on LinkedIn.

Chicken Soup for the Dejected Writer’s Soul:How to Be Your Own Therapist when these Three Dreamcrushers Invade your Writer’s Soul

chicken souo for lonely writer

 

Update: I wrote this post for a blog challenge hosted by Sophie Lizard over six months ago. Didn’t win, and didn’t follow the moderators recommendation to resubmit. I abandoned the post and I’m just now mustering the courage to publish it. A lot has happened since that time too. I have finally left an unhappy marriage and am working at getting the healing I need to claim those deferred writing dreams that seemed so crushed when I wrote this post. 

Actor/writer/entertainer Spalding Gray’s untimely death in 2013 was shocking to many in his circle. Patricia Pharrel, author of How to Be Your Own Therapist: A Step-by-Step Guide to Building a Competent, Confident Life remembers Gray as a man of talent and complexity who had . . . . “a great deal of pain in his life, pain he managed to keep to himself and it was depression that drove him to take his life.”

When Swedish researchers combed through population registries looking for a link between creativity and mental illness, they found that writers have a slightly increased risk for depression and suicide, but their relatives do not. Continue reading

Free. . . . dom song. . . finally!

The caged bird can sintrapped bird2g

She is free

Free of the cords of unhappiness that wrapped her too tightly in fear and anguish and despair and misery and loneliness and pity and self recriminations and guilt and embarrassment for far too long

Five years

Lord, what a waste

But she thanks God for the lessonsgirl cage free

Thank Him for even the greying hairs at her temple

(She is stronger than she thought),

and thankful

for the angel fingers that opened the door

And gave the survivor her day dream

Wind beneath her wings

Heart’s song sad and wistful, but happy and fre

Separation from the net song, victory over evil medleys

Cage-free survivorfescaped bird

The hope of raveling net chords, exploding cage.

No longer bound

Watch her rise now,

sky bound.

Copyright. Karen Taylor 2015. All rights reserved. (Images are owner copyrighted)

Have a Courageous Day

Sometime we wish others a good day, a wonderful day, a fantastic day.

I don’t frequently hear or wish others a courageous day.

But every now and then that’s the kind of day we need.

Especially when it has taken everything to roll out of bed and you just feel like sitting in a huddle, wishing not to face the world today

When your nerves are bundled in knots, tears are clogging your throat, you have nothing left to say but your soul is screaming and your hands are shaking

The sun is out but inside a bitter blizzard is brewing.

You need a brighter day

Only God can give you courage

From his infinite resources.

He can empower you with strength.

When faced with mind numbing, courage sapping situations, I often find consolation in music. If what you need right now is just an ounce of courage, here are three songs I use to get some  inspiration when I am depressed. If you too are having just that kind of day, let me share these three songs to help you press on through this tunnel.

Those who have overcome say there is indeed a light ahead.

1. To Find My Strength by Natalie Grant

2. His strength is perfect when your strength is gone – Cece Winans

2 Kings 6:16:  “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”


When your strength is gone

You may need to let go and let God.

Lean on Him. Wait on Him.

He will embrace you.

3. Survivors never Quit by Glacia Robinson

You are not a victim. You are destined to win.

Feel the thorns and press on.

For those that are for you are more than those that are against you

Have a courageous day.

The Lost Anniversary

It’s the eve

of our

anniversary

and I feel

all popped down

I’m popping peanuts

Tension is in the room

Anxiety is lying on my chest

Has been that way since the last fatal words over a week ago

More peanuts

More peanuts

Then everything stopped. The last tether I was holding onto broke.

Poof. Bandaged emotional dams broke.

We stopped

talking

lovemaking

trying

stopped fighting

the fight has gone out

the passion

and the light

and the love

We let it slip away

Not me, him

Four years of CPR

Still vegetated

Time to pull the plug?

Or just walk away

(No further explanations need, we’re all talked out)

And leave the vegetated state

With this ring, on those steps under the canopy of the sunny Friday sky

We’d promised forever, said I do

But didn’t expect that forever meant so much work to keep fires stoked

Except, why did it feel as though I was the only one changing and forgiving and caring?

And while we looked on, the venom took the oxygen out of our air

The flame on the Forever dipped, blew out

and quiet-ly, tiptoe-ing-ly slipped away.

While conflicted, crying heart(s)

helplessly and silently

watched the petals and the promises swallowed up in

the swirling dervish dusk.

Voice Uncensored: Diary of my Mundane Monday

Monday, January 5, 2015

 

3:20 a.m.  I wake up to my husband’s shufflings. He’s getting ready for work. I lay there. We are not speaking since Saturday when I spoke to him over a simple matter and he over-reacted and stormed off, leaving a gift I had asked him to bring to a child. I followed him, he drove off in a rush to evade me and I ended up having to give chase and throw the bag in the back of the van as he sped away. It was so unnecessary. What had happened should not have offended him to that point that he got so angry. Depressed already, I was not in the mood for more stress.

3:30 a.m.  I hear the keys jangle as the door closes, the sound of the van revving up and he drives away.

3:45 a.m. I get up. I can’t sleep. I head to the living room with my pillow and a sheet, settle myself on the couch and start my computer. I start flipping through downloaded files and reading through some. I open up my internet browser and find an online learning toolbox from an Australian site. I start reading how to design learning programs as a trainer. The radio is playing gospel hymns and my mind is flickering everywhere so I can’t concentrate. I don’t know when I fall asleep.

7:30 a.m. I wake up with the laptop cotched on my tummy. The screen is sleeping. I get up and crack my windows to see there’s bright sunlight outside. It’s morning. I turn off the lights and open up my door. Oh well, another day.

I continue browsing through my emails. I find HUFFINGTON POST Monday mail and am taken to the gossip pages about the actress who had a baby for a boxer guy. She’s small, and he’s tall. Then a story about Kate Middleton captures my attention and I read through a series of Royals posts for the next three hours. I find myself reflecting,  I don’t know why I am so fascinated with Kate and Williams’ life. They are not Gods. Just what’s the claim to fame? She has lots of fancy clothes and don’t really work,unless you call dinners and fun travels work. Seems like princesses and duchesses just push out babies every other year and they and their babies are fawned over by an adoring public. What a life though. I find myself wishing I had such an idyllic life nevertheless. Wonder if I would be bored though? These days I find myself easily bored.

12:00 noon. I must have drowsed off again. The government  news is being read on radio. I switch stations back to gospel and a lady is praying.

I am hungry.

I get up and go search for food in the refrigerator. I decided against touching my husband’s fries in the freezer and opt for some raisins instead. I search for my phone. My girlfriend who is visiting from the States is supposed to call so we can meet up and chat. I find it in my bag. It’s off. I turn it back on and instantly see that my daughter has sent me some phone credit. A minute or so later it rings and my friend is calling. We arrange a lunch meeting out on the plaza for 2 0’clock. I checked and found I had some change I could use for my busfare. I wasn’t too sure I had enough, but she had promised to give me busfare to return home.

I head back to the couch. I sing along with a song that’s playing on the radio for a while before turning my attention to the laptop screen. I flip from email to web site. All I do is read, a bit of this and a bit of that. Oh, my poor flitting mind. I feel a headache coming on.

Then I decide to write this post.

Thoughts intervene. I need a job. I should be spending more time applying for a job. But where, what? There is nothing in the papers. Why can’t I find the motivation to do anything? Why do I sit here feeling worthless, having ideas, but not acting on them? I haven’t called my mother since the New Yrear. I should call, but I don’t feel like dealing with questions today about what progress I’m making with my job hunting. It bothers me. It seems I’m shut down. I feel miserably unhappy and stuck. I guess I’m depressed.

I also worry about my dad. Guilt rides me everytime I remember I haven’t seen him in just over two years now. I didn’t find the time to go when I was working and had funds and I can’t go now I am free and have no funds. I feel torn and very guilty. He’s recovering from a stroke which has taken his speech and leaves him speaking gibberish which I don’t understand. But I love my dad. I want to see him. I could ask my husband but I don’t really like him to see my father in this state. He’s sometimes comptemptuous of my family. I don’t want to subject my parents to him. I’d rather not share my parent’s lesser selves  with someone who has no regard for me or them.

I need to see my daughter too. As you would have read in my About page, she doesn’t live with me and my husband. She lives with her father’s parents in another parish and goes to school there. She spends time with her father in Florida in the Summer months and should really spent time with me during the Xmas season, but in the last couple of years she’s been reluctant to come by me. I can’t say I blame her. My husband always finds a way to show her the side I try to keep her away from why she’s not with me in the first place. We constantly argue when my daughter is not here and he can’t make an effort not to create some offence when she is around for the short time I have her. I think she finds the environment in my home distasteful, or maybe just less luxurious than what she is used to in her second home. I don’t know. Maybe the grandparents are part of the problem too, spoiling her so she can’t accept what I have to offer her.

So as I was saying I didn’t see her at Christmas or New Year and I feel like a bad mother. I feel guilty and conflicted all the time since she’s not been with me, which is major part of my deep unhappiness.

I want to spend time with her,  but I don’t like to be with her and feel depressed, and the idea of travelling so far to see her when I’m in a state that can’t deal with anything stressful, is additionally off-putting. She also doesn’t seem to need me that much anymore either. She’s almost 16 and has friends and  activities that seem more important to her at this time than being around her mother. So I feel unneeded and a bit angry with her sometimes for that, but my mood soon changes to sadness. I can’t blame her. She is just a young girl trying to chart her path and make sense of the adolescent changes in her body.

How can I be upset at her? I didn’t take charge of my life. I made the mistakes. I decided to sacrifice having her by my feet and suffer my own punishment, so that she would have a better life and would not be harmed by my mistakes. It became imperative that she must never take the same road I have taken, never be smeared by the mud I had settled in. So I’ve decided to let her have a better home, an argument-free home where I pray to God, she will blossom into a confident young woman who will know how to assert herself when she grows up and never mistake sadistic romance for love.

I  take full responsibility for all the crap I’ve allowed to happen in my life, the learned helplessness, the mistakes, the fact I’ve allowed people, especially the men in my life to walk all over me and take my happiness, break my spirit and increasingly reduce my self-worth. It’s my pound of flesh to give so she can do much better than I have and achieve all the good things an empowered life can offer. But I still fret that  it could all go wrong and my painful sacrifice could be in vain; wonder whether it is possible that I could have passed the learned helplessness and abuse psyche to her genetically and the cycle may stubbornly continue despite my best efforts to separate her from this curse.

1:30 p.m. I start getting ready to go meet my girlfriend. I was the dishes, mop the kitchen and straighten up the bed which I’d left tussled since I came out of it after 3 p.m. this morning. I battle with the little voice that tells me to cook dinner and leave it for my undeserving husband. I recall he had said his shift would end at 6 p.m., so I estimate I would have enough time to spend time with my friend and return in time to make dinner. A hurt voice of passive resistance tells me not to make any dinner. Don’t keep making him feel that what he is doing is okay. Stop being a doormat. I iron, shower, get dressed and head out the door 30 minutes later than I had told my friend I would be there to meet her. But she’s patient, I console myself. She’ll wait and won’t make a fuss. She calls to check where I am me and I tell her I am on my way.

2:30 p.m. I arrive at Megamart where we had agreed to have lunch at the food court. We spend time catching up talking about her ‘new friend’, her wish to have a baby (She’s 40 this year and a divorcee) and my inability to get pregnant with my husband. I counsel her to be careful on the dangers of rushing into a two month old relationship with a double divorcee. I am married to one, so I know first-hand the baggage they can carry. She extols his virtues and express concern about a few of his issues while we eat.After an hour she seems to be getting antsy and we leave.

3:45 p.m. I follow her to search for gifts to take back to Florida for friends, and then take a taxi to her home to pick up the few gifts she had brought me but which she had forgotten to bring with her to the lunch date. I greet and chat with her mom who I had not seen since college days. We chat for about 30 minutes about the state of affairs in the country.

4:45 p.m. My friend walks me to the bus-stop where I hail a taxi which takes me to the plaza we had left from. From there I take another taxi home. When I get home, I see my husband is already there. Guess the shift ended an hour early than he had claimed it would have. I let myself in, put down my things. We pass each other like two sailboats on the ocean. No horn is tooted. He goes outside. I change my clothes. There is soup on the stove that he had made for himself. I sit on the couch and turn on my laptop. I browse and read.

6:45 p.m. He comes back into the house. He picks up his laptop and puts it on his knees and soon is engrossed in his favourite game of cards. A popular radio talk show is booming through the radio speakers just beside where I sit. I am annoyed and want to turn it down but decide against touching his stuff.

8:00 p.m. He attaches his laptop to the radio sound system and watches the television news through WIFI Internet that I have not paid for in the last five months since I stopped working. I’ve been praying everyday they don’t come to cut it. It sounds bad, but I’d be really lost without the Internet to keep me company. I live with a man who does nothing but work, sleep, work. We  have no social life. He has taken me out on a date since we married, even though I’ve asked to. We have been to the beach once in the last five years since we married. I never had a honeymoon because he asked back for the money he had given me to pay down so he could use it for his uncle’s funeral. His promises to make up for the lost honeymoon since then has been forgotten. He has never had the money to do such ‘foolishness’ since then. Neither has he told me ‘Happy Anniversary’ since we married because he always find something to be upset about the night or days  before and the ‘malice’ always conveniently lasts until the day of the anniversary. And over time, my laptop has replaced him as my loyal, peaceful companion.

8:40 p.m.  He sighs, gets up and irons his work shirt for the next day. I would usually have washed and ironed, but since the impasse, I have left those duties to him. On Saturday evening, I overheard him making plans with a woman to wash his clothes for him. He didn’t discuss this with me before to see how I felt about it, but I figure it is his way to reiterate that I need to get up and get a job which he has been saying these past few weeks in more and more disrespectful tones. I had asked him why he needed to go there. Amidst my distrust issues with him after an incident a few months ago involving a woman, he knew and I told him I didn’t like the plan and there was no need for it as I was already washing for him. But he let me know, I would be at work. The innuendo was not lost on me. But to go ahead without discussing this with me and letting me into who he was asking was I felt a form of disrespect and another attempt to  alienate me in his psychological games and a show of  passive resistance which he has subjected me to and taught me since we married these past five years come the 29th of January.

Now, I have become a master at the game too, and I give back as good as I get these days.

After completing his ironing, he listens to some more tv news. I read and browse some more.

9:00 p.m. He turns in for bed. I decide to complete this post which I had started earlier today.

10:30 p.m. I have completed drafting my post. I need to put some finishing touches on it before publishing. I need to publish it tonight too. If I let it sit, I may change my mind.

I realise I have shared a lot more than I am used to, but ‘cho’. . . I need to get some of this stuff out of me so my spirit can rise from the ashes at this dark time in my life. I need strength to bear my cross. My emotional turmoil has burgeoned into a stone that’s hanging around my neck. I’m in sink or swim mode, and despite my immobile feet, my spirit commands me to ‘swim’.

As  a few of my fellow bloggers told me earlier this week, this is my blog, my story to write. I’ll write what I want to write. Maybe it’s time to break the cords of helplessness that has dogged me for too long, time to find my voice, reach for the fulfilment that has evaded me for far too long . . . time to smell the roses in the rose garden.

 

 

 

Will It Just Be Your Heart That Breaks?

sunset 2

Stuck in fear.

You are in the phase in your marriage where you know it’s over and things are not going to get better, but you’re not ready to face the sunset, to let go. You play his manipulation game, wishing the charm of the last evening could last, but it doesn’t this morning. And anger, denial and fear tussle daily trying to keep the inevitable at bay. It’s a scary place.

You  wish you could jump over the years after the oncoming separation/divorce and be at the place where the dulled pain is and the sun shines again. You’re scared to go through the forest. You may not survive, You may go insane. It’s been too much held down for too long.

When it comes up, will you be able to handle so much? Will things break? Will it just be your heart that breaks is the question that makes your knees shake.

Blogging for a Better New Year

blog new year   blogging for a new year

Happy New Year Bloggers.

I don’t make New Year resolutions. I feel too guilty when I renege on them, so I will make it a prayer today.

Lord help me live my life and blog more fearlessly in 2015.

Now that is out of the way, I need your help to  evaluate my blog.

Did you ever suffer from confidence issues about your writing or your blog? How did you overcome or tackle these?

It’s said that the blogging life of new bloggers is very short and a great number of new blogs fail within the first three years. As comments trickle in and long gaps emerge between posts when I receive no notifications, I too have faced the spectre of my own demise. Lately I’ve been asking myself whether it’s worth continuing this blog. I have even begun to doubt my ability to write. I scrutinise the blog to see it with my readers’ eyes, but there will be always a blindspot that you can’t see past in your own work.

I have read the blogging pundits and taken WordPress classes and tried to apply the guidelines. In and out of WordPress forums, I have spent time supporting other bloggers in the community by reading and commenting, yet it is all too easy to feel alienated. I don’t feel a part of a writing community sometimes. My readership is not growing as I would like, and my comment boxes remain predominantly empty.

I also hear ‘guest post, guest post’ as the way to build readership, but I panic at the thought of writing on someone else’s blog.

I know there are several areas in which I need to improve. I am not certain if it’s my subject, my writing,  or whether the problem is that I need to focus and tweak my niche or target audience. I know I am not very consistent. I don’t follow a blogging schedule or all too often do not stick to my promises to write what I say I will write. I sometimes don’t take enough time to proofread and let the post sit for a day or two before publishing, so some errors escape. I let posts sit in drafts forever instead of cleaning or completing them so can be pressed.

I’d like to make an effort to find all the holes in my blog as I step into the new year. So if you can find some time, could you answer these questions for me?

1.  What do you like about my blog? What was your favourite post?

2. What do you think I should improve or change to win over new or win back my readers?

2. If you were running my blog, how would you make it pop?

3. What makes you connect with a blog?

4. What more can I do to connect with my readers?

5. I’ve tried all the marketing tactics for getting more comments on my posts. Still it doesn’t generate the feedback I expect. What tips that work for you could you share with me?

6. Does it really have to take years as the blogging pundits say to build a blog from scratch?

Thank  you for your constructive feedback. Happy Blogging in 2015!

Thank You, Sorry, Who Cares? 72 do

I want to extend special thanks to those who took the time to follow and read my blog this year. I enjoyed your visit. It feels good to know you were interested in what I had to say when I did say anything.

I am also sorry that my blogging pattern has fallen off recently. Life gets in the way and I often struggle with whether I should blog about my issues.

‘Who cares’ is the voice I battle with.

‘Why dump your bad days on your readers? Everyone has their own troubles, you don’t need to spew more onto them.’

That voice most often wins.

It’s a voice I’ll have to battle as the new year approaches. I either have to stay on the blogging horse or get off altogether. But I’d like to continue blogging, put my voice out there, even if it’s one of dissent or depression, or conversations with myself. It’s my rose gardens. It’s my thorns. It’s what I said I’d blog about, even when its a streak of thorns that seems to be all I can stumble through.

And maybe not everyone will ‘stay away’ if I share my personal failures. Maybe there are other people who can identify with my caged bird stories. Maybe I don’t need to listen to that discouraging voice that keeps asking, Who cares? Or maybe I should just ignore the Notifications and the site stats that I check way too often and just write what’s on my over-analytical, not so lucid brain. Feel the immobilising fear and write about it cause that’s what I feel and experience at this point.

Forget what my About page says and it’s promises and that I’m not sticking to the big picture and the goals and just write. Admit that I am a lazy, distracted blogger who reads too much about what other ‘successful’ bloggers say defines my success. Admit that I probably am never gonna make it big or have the same site stats that some bloggers have. Maybe I should just stop all the marketing and just write and who will come, come. Maybe I should stop thinking and just let my thoughts flow as they are doing now, not really going anywhere, just saying, y’know.

Put my good, my bad, my sense and my nonsense until my change comes… a  new vibe, the ‘what’ I’m aiming to become.

Whole, lucid, prolific.

Maybe I should just ‘say’ and forget the rest. Who will come, will come. Or maybe I should change my focus to reflect the dynamic patterns of my life. Probably that’s what I should do. Not try to be a magazine, just be a blog. Be the little train car and not the whole train. At least for now, until my change comes.

For now and today, all I have are fragments and a hoarse discordant song.

You can listen in  or not. Tomorrow gifts a new day.

When I MAY HAVE A NEW SONG, a more perfect one.

Thanks for keeping me company in my rose garden this year.

I was truly blessed to be read by the universe. When I am asked again, Who cares?

I’ll stick my chin up and proudly say

My 72 followers and 1,300 visitors who just viewed and stopped to chat or just silently cheered from the side-lines.

Thank you, yes you.

Have a fantastic 2015!