Amy, why don’t you write??!

It always surprises me how often I find myself fielding the “Amy! Why don’t you write?!” question.

The answer is pretty simple:  I don’t feel like it.

Okay, maybe not quite that simple, but close.  I should say “I don’t feel like writing for any real purpose”.  The truth is – I do write.  I write papers for school, posts for MMADieHards, plenty of email for a multitude of reasons, and an endless amount observational banter on various social networking platforms.  Sometimes I’m flat typed-out.

There are times that I would write, should the stars align to meet my happy-writing requirements.  This is where the problems begin.  I’m a Gemini.  So?  Sure, I’m not positive that I buy into all of the astrology business.  But if one Gemini-ism applies to me, it would have to be this:  With most things (and people) in life, I’m like a cat distracted by bright, shiny objects – absolutely enamored, completely entertained, giving of my full attention, and then BOOM – the ol’ brain is already on to something new to add to my intellectual travels.  “We’re like sponges absorbing information … We hate repetitiveness in our work, relationships, and lives in general.  Keep things sweet, fresh, and new, but throw us a curve ball from time to time.  Challenge us mentally, never stifle our creativity, and prepare for all of our sides.”  But Amy, how does that apply to writing?  Well, when I say “I don’t write”, I actually mean “I don’t write articles, I don’t contribute to any websites, and I don’t generate any new or original content under deadlines on any schedule”.  Lacking the motivation to comply with “assignments” (too much like homework, thankyouverymuch) and driven by a writing style akin to my style of speaking, I’m just not cut from the same cloth as so many career writers I know and am so fond of.  Journalism, I love you, but you’re just not for me.

I’ll tell you a secret.  For years, I wrote poetry – some of it published.  For years, I kept a journal.  For years, I wrote comedic observations (“material”, if you will).  Do I plan to share any of that with any of you people?  Probably not.  In fact, the last poem I wrote was on Sept 11, 2001 – something I’m considering sharing, given the gravity of the ten year anniversary (tomorrow).  Be on the lookout for that, I’ll do my best.

In any case, my point:  I don’t write because I have to.   When I write, I do so because I want to.  Something is entertaining, interesting, important, or bothersome enough for me to get my fingers a-typin’ – at my leisure, when, where, and how I want.  Consider this your fair warning:  After reading enough of my babbling, you’ll either grow to love me more than you’d ever care to admit or you’ll decide that I’m not quite the quick-witted, sharp-tongued, eagle-eyed Kickass Wonderchick you once thought.  I’m okay with that… So long as you’re okay with telling me.  😉

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