Even just a measly hundred words a day is hard. Especially after so long a silence. I wish I could say it was all navel gazing and introspection, but the truth is more benign and insidious than that.
Writing – even slapdash blog writing – is hard. Especially if you have any sort of anxiety. what if it’s wrong? what if its stupid? what if, what if, what if?????
You get comfortable in silence. You get complacent.
Except for that small, quiet, writery part in the back of your brain.
WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING?
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG?
OMG, DID YOU SEE THAT? WE SHOULD TOTES WRITE ABOUT THAT!!!!
What all those exclamation points and intentions are missing is the aftermath. Writer Brain cares *snap, double snap, triple snap with SFFFT WHATEVS BABE* about aftermath. It is all about writing it down.
Anxiety Brain? Cares a lot. A LOT.
what if i piss someone of?
what if I do something wrong?
is this even good, anyhow? who’d read THIS garbage?
Dear Anxiety Brain,
Um. I mean no offense. But? Could you? I mean, maybe for just a bit?
Just…um…FUCK OFF FOR A WHILE?
’cause that’d be awesome, yeah.
Alllllll the love
<none really>
~The Mgmt
PS
I’m trying. Bear with me?
The Process 
I hear ya, sister.
It’ll get better. I haven’t been blogging, either. Swamped at school and burned out from over 28 thousand words of essays packed into one month of insanity. The words will come. They’re your truth, right? Of course, they’ll come.
I always try to remember that my writing is as much for me as it is for the reader. I write it for my own enjoyment. If I click “publish” or any similar button, that’s entirely up to me.
Then, even though I’ve told myself it’s optional, I wait until I’ve got it done, then laugh evilly, and click “publish” any damned way, and anxiety brain just has to scream in the background until the feedback comes pouring in.