Widows and orphaned ideas

I have long aspired to be a prolific writer, although I've never been motivated enough to actually accomplish it. I have a tendency to want to wait for inspiration.

Inspiration is great. It makes everything exceptionally easy. Emotion and thought congeal, making every word written immensely satisfying and removing all of the typical worry about whether the writing is of high enough quality. I have tried to examine this logically and remind myself that even what I've written while inspired is rarely good enough to escape thorough editing, but I still allow myself to be discouraged on my uninspired days. I very much hate every word I write and feel loathing and disdain for my sentence structure. I have a habit of mocking the cliche I see in my thought process. It shuts me down.

This, then will be the latest iteration in my ongoing attempt to claim my identity as a serious writer. I call it WIDOW, because I am a dork: "Why I Don't Often Write". So, my promise to myself is that I will write something every day. If I can't write about the ideas I am having, or not having, then I will write about why I failed to write at all. It cannot fail.

Except, it can. It probably will. What am I, though, if I don't at least try.

Today (and by "today" I actually mean yesterday - I just noticed I have passed on into Thursday at this point) I did not write because I woke up exhausted. I allowed my son to watch an episode of Curious George and took a nap. Once that was finished, I left the house to repair the tire on my minivan. This took up most of the morning. Then, upon returning, I invested all of my energy into anticipation for the arrival of my new keyboard (which I am gleefully typing upon now). Once it arrived, it was time to prepare myself for the workday and writing became another unfulfilled wish.

I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.