Really I don't need your help. This isn't an emergency, just a cry for help from my editor-brain to write a little less like Hawthorne, and more like...like...Hemingway, maybe? In other words: get to the point, Christy! Trying to do that in the wee hours of the morning is more difficult than I had thought. Will.keep.trying.
So why am I here today at 5:30pm instead of am? My little angel has been napping for a few hours and is still asleep. Yes, yes, I know. We'll be up all night now, but I figured she must still be catching up on sleep from her big birthday weekend. Maybe I'll regret later my decision to let her sleep as long as she wants. In the meantime, I've caught up on a bunch of work (ha, not housework) and have a sec to post.
I've written it before and it bears repeating. My blog posts (and occasionally my private journal entries) tend to circle my point but never get to it. It's as if I'm avoiding the point, or maybe avoiding spelling it out explicitly, hoping you find it on your own. This isn't a treasure hunt, though, is it? So why do I struggle with getting to the point? Fear.
There, I said it. Fear. Fear that by stating my point plainly I expose my most personal thoughts or feelings -- or worse, vulnerabilities. I peel back all the layers of the onion, leaving only the most delicate and sweetest part of my soul. The place where people can really hurt me. My fear is holding me back from writing well, I know that. No more.
Breathe, Christy. Put it out there. You will never know where this path is leading you if you don't lace up your boots.
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