Essay camp day 2025 #1 2025

Today? We were supposed to write something. One of the prompts [obviously the one I decided to try]:

 Write about the fact that you hate writing, have no talent, or cannot write. 

I should've kept writing every day in the blog.  The year I decided to write every day was... well quite frankly, it was excruciating. I was always grateful for Sundays because all I had to do was find a picture that I wanted to post. Some holidays, or anniversaries like the bombing of Hiroshima, were the same - post a picture, make a comment. 

 Oh there were easy days, days when I could just sit and type away as though I was talking to someone in the room.  There were days when feelings flowed effortlessly over the page.

 But the other days? gah. 

To get through the difficult days of emotional constipation, I came up with a format for the blog, the one that you, my readers have become familiar with. 

1.  I tell you all kinds of numbers - Today is the 7th day of the 46th week, the 15th day of the 11th month, the 319th day of 2025 and earlier in the year I tell you the number of shopping days until Christmas. I stop doing that when the holiday grows closer because it isn't funny any more. 
2.  Then I list the holidays that I can find that are on that day [now and then making comments about them or providing a link for more information], sometimes telling you what phase the moon is in, and end the list by telling you where Voyager I is because that is how far humankind has reached in the exploration of the universe.
3. There is a quote of the day - not just any old quote but one that resonates with me in some way, with a bit of information on the source and sometimes a link
4. Sometimes there is a picture of the day

And then I write something and put a picture next to it, stare at it, then send the poor little thing out into the wilds of the internet.  Oh and I have come up with a stylistic pattern of formatting 

Why do I have a blog?  because I always thought of myself as a writer and that's what writers do, they write.  But does blathering along count as writing when no one but yourself reads it or cares about what is written?

This is going to be an interesting essay camp I think.  

I also think it will help me break the cone of silence I have been wrapped in of late.  We'll see.