Writing for a blog is interesting. There are certain advantages—the subjects for pieces can be almost anything, one doesn’t have to be concerned with a plot or maintaining tension, and the piece can be as long or short as one cares to make it. I rather like that. It is especially welcome when there are other, longer pieces I’m working on, pieces that demand more attention and, I suppose, discipline.

Now there’s a good subject—discipline. I’ve never been too fond of that particular item. I have seen advice from successful authors that stress discipline—strict hours for writing, a goal for words per session, etc. I tried that. It didn’t work for me. I’m better writing when I feel like it. Sometimes I call that when the muse speaks to me. That sounds better. But then that’s not really true either. Deadlines, either real or self-imposed, sometimes work. “This has to be done,” I tell myself after I have been procrastinating for the better part of a couple days. I sit down at the computer, stare at the blank screen for a while, and then, suddenly, the words start coming and in a short time I’m finished.

It doesn’t always work that way. It’s a pleasure when it does. The rule for me is that there is no rule. The writing works when it works. Anyway, it’s nice when I can just write at my leisure, taking my time as I want and writing about what I want—just as I am in this piece. It doesn’t even matter if I ramble a bit as I’m doing now. At least I hope not. I’ll get around to writing something more serious next week. That will be better. I guess.