Honestly, I never click on video linkage. I hate it. Even if it promises to be hilarious, comes from an email or a close friend, I rarely will watch. Recipe videos are the worst. I know how to beat an egg. Just tell me the proportions. 

Honestly, I have no clue what I’m doing on Twitter. I’m like a toddler in swimming lessons, flailing my arms about and trying not to drown. Surely making a complete fool of myself while I do it. 

Honestly, I don’t comment on blogs enough. And when I do, I never return to see responses. I think there’s a way you can subscribe just to responses in the comments, but it hasn’t worked thus far. OR, just as likely, I haven’t commented anything worth responding. 

Honestly, I watch to see when/if people view my own blog. I’m curious. Did you know there’s a reader from Alaska? (Helooooo up there!). The new Blogger platform also informs me that 55% of the pageviews come through on a Windows platform and another 13% in Linux. People use Linux? The traffic sources page can be better than Facebook in terms of keeping me abreast the trends.

Honestly, I suck at SEO. My top keyword searches that landed readers to my page include my blog name and “yoga teacher following Jesus”. Stellar.

Honestly, I’ve been on Google Plus only to set up my account. I’ve understood the purpose behind FB, twitter, LinkedIn and even stumbling. But I’ve yet to really grasp the Google (even though I’m Google-centered in my personal domain. I live by the g-docs and g-cal. Love.)

Honestly, I could use a bit of refreshment in my blog reading life. Too many recipes, not enough comedy. Send me some funny referrals. I need a good storyteller on my rolls to keep me sane. Like Boomama, before she went platinum. She’s still funny, but I miss the purity of her commentary of the cream cheese football dip. I’ve adapted entire philosophies on life based on that post.

Honestly, Pinterest is out of control. Someone let the riff-raff in. I might need to do an evaluation process of who I follow to keep quality standards in place. (No, honey, I don’t mean you. You never post “recipes” that consist of opening 3 cans. I mean, er….)

Honestly, social media in general is exhausting, confusing and perhaps a bit more work than what I’d like. But it’s also connecting, helpful and a wealth of information and insight that I’d not find had I taken a bunny trail through the bit.lys. So I’ll keep with it for a while. Maybe I’ll find my next big break.

1. Uh, self, exactly what part of your crafting vitae entitles you to try to sew gifts for home ec teachers? These people are formally educated in processes such as these.  

2. The zigazag stitch covers a multitude of sins. I may never sew in a straight line ever again. 

3. So this is why the pattern said to use the long end of the towel as the bottom edge. Huh. Pattern writers do know what they’re talking about. 

4. Why does a bag need handles? Perhaps I can offer them a beach clutch. 

5. I bought only a beach towel and had enough supplies in my crafty cabinet to complete the project. Clearly I’ve unlocked some sort of next-level in Pinterest, right? Like the Super Mario World dungeon? (Bonus coins: I used my $10 kohls cash for the $12 towel and had enough to make both bags. Craftiness living  out its purpose in thriftiness!)

I don’t refer to myself as a runner; while I do like to log several miles, my form and my measureless lack anything inspiring. I don’t subscribe to runners world and I only have one playlist. Come to think of it, I only have one workout: 3 miles. Unless I’m training for a half. Then I increase miles but pay no attention to pace. Fartliks, speedwork, these things mean nothing. It’s about the finish, which is generally my only goal in running. So, I’m not a runner. I just like to run. I’m okay with that. 

But I don’t just like to write. I aspire to be a writer. Someone who finds purpose in putting thoughts together with words and those who read the words find truth, beauty and emotion, be it laughs or tears. I hope that my tendencies to over-dramatize the events of my day elevate a hidden truth about the world that finds connection in someone else’s heart. I don’t “just like to” write. 

So, my friends say, be a writer. Go from the verb to the noun. Write to writer. Make the leap. But there are fears, you see. Hangups exist. Blocks that cause stumbling (and not just the writer’s kind). And for the most part I can tell you what will keep me from being a writer. I might as well get them out in the open. Name your enemies and keep them close, right? 

1. Pride. I hate failing, so I generally avoid trying. It’s a method that has served me well in the past in terms of success rates, but lacks a bit when it comes to the joys of overcoming challenges. Enter: Don Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. 

2. Industry knowledge. I don’t know who to write for, other than Blogger and I’ve been told I’m even behind the times there (WordPress is superior, you say?). I might be able to rustle up a few regular readers, but I’m not sure what publication they congregate around. 

3. General lack of a goal. I read today some advice about elevating your platform and offering a “Wow experience.” Some questions the blog asked:

My answers? I. Don’t. Know. When I talk about writing in a general sense, people ask me what I would write about. And my answer is mysteriously similar. Is “nonfiction” an acceptable response at this point? 

4. Solitary confinement. I read the above questions and had the burning desire to send out a meeting invite so I could talk strategy with 11 of my closest friends. But writing isn’t much of a team sport when it comes down to keystrokes. Perhaps I can find a community-published blog, but I’m not sure where to go for those, either, so I’m left with myself and an empty whiteboard. 

5. Accountability. With no deadlines in place, no end goals, it’s lollygagging from hear forward. Perhaps this changes with updates to # 2 and #3, but I can’t be sure. Other than the poor soul who kept reading this post (Hi Kristy!) and my husband, no one will really have a sense of where I am and what I’m doing. And we’re back to roadblock #1. 

I’m sure that Ann Lamott would tell me to get get over myself, get my butt in the chair and begin writing some really bad stuff. It’s the writer’s version of putting on some shoes and stepping one foot in front of the other, no matter how bad the form. So really, all I need to do for follow through is to put a little money on a 5K.

I’d be curious what the big blocks are for others, be it writers or for those who just aspire to something else. Surly I can’t be alone, right? Right?