Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing flawlessly. - Robert Schuller

Writing is painful, at least for me. It's like wrenching a being from my very depths... kind of like giving birth, but the helpful epidural only gives you a hell of a headache. Oh, I know about all the cathartic attributes of journaling and self-indulgent diaries, and the wonders that come from creative notions and idea exploration. But, in all truth, conveying an idea worth reading is hard. Really hard. And I've had a few birthing experiences by comparison. Still hard.

So that is why when my dear husband popped in the computer room today and excitedly asked "ARE YA BLOGGING???", my heart sank just a little, because I wondered if I could really do it. There's a certain vulnerability that comes with publishing, and there's just enough pride in me to want to write something that matters to someone. It's enough to make me not write.

But here's the rub: Writing brings joy. It brings ideas to the surface I didn't know were seeded, and sometimes the words that emerge with them give me more than pause. The process of ebb and flow can be truly laborious, but I delight in them... the words, the ideas. Really, I do!

So, lesson learned. I've wrenched a few beings from my body before, and I've survived to delight in a tale or two. I'm far from being a perfect parent; surely I can survive writing more.