I HAVEN'T WRITTEN anything in a while. It’s time to start again.
I enjoy writing. I want to write. I have a lot to say. But I can’t say it, for the most part; at least not in a public forum. My employer frowns on it, and that’s okay. I get it.
I can’t write about politics, or economics, or current events, because that would mean inflecting my opinion, which is kind of a no-no as far as my company’s social media policy goes, even for personal writings.
I’m hesitant to write about religion, because I’ll just offend everyone.
I shouldn’t write about sports or video games, because nobody cares what I have to say in those arenas. (Actually, I do write about video games, using a pseudonym, for a video game website, in their user’s blogging forum. It’s fun. But I don’t share it, because, again, hardly anyone I know personally is interested in video games.)
And yet, like an artist without a canvas or a musician without an instrument, I am bursting with creativity, longing to put pen to paper, figuratively, or realistically, fingers to keyboard.
Truly, though, I flatter myself, for I am no linguistic artist. I will never win a literary award, and I don’t really think I could write a book. Not right now, anyway.
But the yearning is still there. I can’t fulfill it by writing news items at work; those have too many rules. Nor is writing a little-read video games blog validating my urges.
So here I am, again, on my personal blog.
I don’t know where to start.
Eventually, I turn to my best friend, the one whom I find to be the most insightful person on Earth.
“Emmy,” I say, “What should I write?”
She stares back at me.
I have my answer.
