Used to be, I could turn out an adequate column in under an hour, on deadline, with little preparation—or prior inspiration. I’d stare at the computer screen while eating my usual 3 p.m. Chipotle lunch at my desk, willing an idea to materialize from thin air.
Some weeks, it was a fruitless effort, as dozens of recycled topics tumbled around in my brain, none captivating enough to warrant revisiting. These were the occasions when a “classic” would be resurrected from the archives, or a “this ’n’ that” collection of random thoughts strung together into unrelated paragraphs.
There would also be, over a span of about two years, a dozen or so “guest” columns authored by my betta fish, Buddy—and later, his successor, Norton von Spudley.
A scientific process, it was not.
Other times, there might be a seedling of an idea—a particular quotation, a milestone event, an observation of the world at large… or more likely, my little slice of it. Thus were borne countless columns, blossoming from initial concept into, well, something a bit more developed.
681 in the books, and I thought losing the pressure of the weekly grind would somehow awaken an untapped channel of creativity. The narrative would flow freely. One a week? That was nothing. I planned to churn out two or three, no problem.
Fast forward nine months, 10 days, and it seems my lofty goals may have been a bit more insurmountable than originally anticipated. Thirteen. That’s how many columns I’ve penned since September—three since we ushered in 2019.
Am I simply out of inspiration? Or have my standards adjusted to only writing when I truly have something to say?
I suppose that’s a topic for another column.
If and when I get around to writing it.
Merry Christmas! {just in case}
Published: June 14, 2019