Practice Doesn’t Make Perfect

As my mother has been going through her EMT class, I’ve been learning right along side of her.  And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everything is a guess.  I mean, let’s think about it.  When you tell a doctor your symptoms, they don’t automatically tell you what is wrong.  They have to do tests, whether that’s just listening to your heart or your lungs, or taking x-rays.  It’s to confirm what they “know” is wrong, but even still, they have to confirm it.

People in the medical field practice medicine.  It’s not an exact science.  A lot of the things that an EMT encounters have the same signs and symptoms.  The diagnosis depends on other factors, such as medicine, body chemistry, etc.

If someone is having a hard time breathing, they could be allergic to something, have asthma, or have fluid in their lungs.  People trained in the medical field have to practice reading the signs.

If doctors practice medicine, why on Earth do you think you need to struggle with practicing to get perfect?  Is it taking you four years to get good at something?  Doctors, who go to school for a minimum of four years, and have three-seven years of training, will spend the rest of their lives learning, practicing, and training.  New technology is coming out all the time, new procedures, new laws and regulations.  They have to learn all of that.

How about practicing law?  It takes seven to eight years to become a lawyer, and they have to practice too!

My last blog post was about best writing practices.  Writing is a practice too!

If it takes you a “long time” to understand something, to perfect something, to finish something, that’s ok, you’re just practicing.  And you’re in good company.  You will be practicing for the rest of your life.

So give yourself a break, take a deep breath, and remember: the best in the field still practice.

  • You haven’t made the bestseller list?
  • Nope, I’m still practicing.


  • You haven’t sold any paintings yet?
  • Nope, I’m still practicing.


  • You haven’t…

Nope, I’m still practicing.


Write Into A Box

As a writer, I tend to read tips and tricks on how other people write, and stay productive.

  • Write X amount of words per day
  • Write the ending first
  • Use character worksheets

Now, as any writer would do, I have tried multiple tips and tricks to try and make writing life a little easier.  But in the end, I usually make it up as I go (as I also do in life).

I have used a character worksheet once, and it worked very well.  I actually enjoyed it so much, that I have a collection of them.  I don’t write every day, and I’ve never tried.  That’s just not me.

But let me tell you about my favorite “best practice” that didn’t work for me.

Wait, you just said it didn’t work for you. But it’s your favorite?

Yeah, because it makes me laugh.  Not the practice itself, but… keep reading, you’ll get it.

Make an outline.

Or, in other words, plan.

If you read back a little, I told you this doesn’t work for me.  And yet, guess what?  I still try and do it!

Now, when I say plan, I mean plan.  I still plan, but there’s a difference between plan and plan. 

I don’t like making outlines.  I feel like I’m drawing the outline of a box, placing myself in said box, closing the flaps, and telling myself I can’t get out.  That’s what an outline makes me feel like.  Because, when I make an outline, and I start writing, and I get to a plot hole, or the next scene doesn’t turn out right, I quit.  Yep, you read that right, I quit.  I don’t throw out the outline, I don’t try to fix it, I just quit.  That’s not being a good writer, I know, but that’s what I do.  I get so mad, and so frustrated, and so sad, that I just walk away.

But, let me tell you a story.  This last NaNoWriMo, I started writing a story based on a title: A Bloody Favor.  I had a title, and my characters’ names, and that was it.  And you know what?  Two things happened:

  1. I finished with 50k+ words
  2. I LOVE the story!  It’s not finished, but that’s easily remedied

It didn’t go the way I had planned it in my head, but since it was only in my head, I felt free to change it.

As you can see, I did plan.  I planned a title, and two names, and as I was writing, I planned future scenes that I wanted, and they were actually able to go into the story.

For one story that I was writing, I wrote down a list of chapter titles, and the theme of each chapter, but not what was going to happen in each chapter.  I never finished that one either, but that was because I got distracted with another writing idea (which I probably didn’t finish).

That’s another reason why I don’t plan, because when I do, I plan so much that I get tired of the story before I even start writing it.  “Whew, that outline took a lot out of me.  I’m tired, I need to sit down and rest,” for the next ten years…

As far as writing a story based on a dream, here’s my process: I write down the scenes that I dreamt, but I don’t try to write the story in the sequence of those scenes.  I write down what I saw, and then I come up with the story based on that.  I don’t base the story on the sequence.

I don’t make outlines.  I choose a starting point, whether that’s a name (or two), a middle scene, what I want to happen at the end, a setting, a theme or lesson, or even an item*, and as I start writing, I let the story tell me how it wants to be written.  I let the characters tell me what they want to say or how they want to act.  I have come to the conclusion that I am not in control, and I love it.  If the story is bad, it’s their fault.  If it’s good, it’s mine (haha).

*I have a story idea based on a futuristic machine that can read minds.  Probably because I watch Hunger Games/Divergent/Scorch Trials a little too much…

Some of my best stories were written because I had no plan.  Well, that would make sense, because when I do plan, nothing gets written.

This post is inspired by the DIYMFA Book Club writing prompt, “The Danger of Best Practices”.

  • If you would like to learn more about the book, click here.

Life, Part 2

When I wrote the blog post Life, I had no idea there was going to be a part two.  The post is about a patient in the ER who died when Mom was there.  What I didn’t mention was that, they most likely died because of a blood clot.

Blood clots are highly dangerous.  Because a blood clot is in the vein, if it breaks loose, it gets swept up in the blood flow and will either move to the lungs (pulmonary embolism), or the heart (cariogenic embolism).  They can also travel to the brain, kidneys, pretty much anywhere blood flows to.

A week or so ago, one of my co-workers was complaining about a blood clot in her leg. She lifted up her pant leg to show me.

“I get them all the time,” she said.  This was before Mom had her ER experience, but I still knew that this was serious business.

“You need to go to the ER,” I told her.

“I can’t afford it.  I’ll just wait for it to go away.”

I didn’t press the issue.  I told her it was serious, she shrugged it off, and I moved on.  But after Mom’s ER experience, you better believe I told everyone about it.

“Blood clots are dangerous,” I told my other co-workers, “she could die.”  They all knew it, whether they wanted to or not.

My mom found an article about someone getting their feet and fingers amputated because of (a) blood clot(s).  Again, I warned a couple of my co-workers.

And then, my co-worker missed multiple days of work.  She began to experience symptoms which she diagnosed as pneumonia.  Still, she never went to the doctors.  She couldn’t afford it, nor did she have transportation.

We all told her to go.  Even her boyfriend.  Finally, I heard from someone at work, my co-worker’s closest friend, that she was going to go to the ER today.

I came home to six messages on my answering machine.  Six.  I usually come home to zero.  No one ever calls me.

My co-worker never made it to the ER.  She died right on her porch.

I called her closest friend.  I didn’t mean to, but I was so distraught that I dialed the wrong number.  Or the right one.  I’m glad I talked to her first.  She was fine for a minute, but then she stopped talking.  I couldn’t do it.  Thankfully, she was at work so our conversation was short.

I then called who I wanted to call, my deli co-worker.  She was the one who kept calling me.  Her last message said that she didn’t want to tell me what was going on in a message, but she did it anyway, which I’m thankful for.  That way, I had time to react instead of reacting while talking to her.  I told her how much I appreciated that.  We talked for about fifteen minutes, and after we hung up, I drove up to the store to talk to everyone.

To be honest, I’m more mad than anything.  Everyone knew it was serious, and everyone said something.  Finally, someone said, “If you won’t go for yourself, go for your daughter.”  So she finally agreed, but, finally was too late.

She leaves behind a 20-something year old son, and a 5/6 year old daughter.  That little girl has to grow up without a mom now.

Reader, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: life is precious.  All the times that she complained that the people before her shift didn’t do their job, those complaints don’t mean anything now.  All the times that she complained that other people got more hours than her, those hours don’t mean anything now.  All the minutes she wasted fighting with her boyfriend, she could have used trying to make amends with her son.  All the money she spent on presents for her daughter for Christmas, could have been used toward keeping herself alive.

Life.  Part two.

Oh, To Be Inspired

Creativity is an interesting thing.  I often find myself uninspired because I’m over inspired.  This leads me to not know where to start, or, start…and then start again…and then start again (this is why I have so many half finished projects).

Oh, to be over inspired. You have such a horrible life, Sarah.

Yes, yes, I know, it’s such a burden. I just wish I had someone to help carry the load.

Hey!  How about I tell you how I get inspired, and maybe you can find some inspiration from it?  That would be cool, right?

On my desk, I have a small cup with fortune cookie fortunes in it.  The fortune could be either a scene, a feeling a character has, an incident (either good or bad), or a theme for the overall story (kind of like fables).

One time, I had a dream* that I was watching a video on YouTube called Blue Uncertainty. I loved the title, so I went out and grabbed blue paint sample cards with names that I could use as chapter titles (Blue Sky, Stone Wall, and Ice Sculpture are just a few of many that I picked out).  Of course, this great idea led me to pick out some for every color, and inspired me to create a “rainbow series.”  As you can imagine, I was so inspired, that I had to stop and marvel as this amazing idea…for the last few years.

*Dreams are huge inspirations to me.  I love having a good dream.  A “good” dream doesn’t necessarily mean the content has to be good.  “Good” in this case just means it’s clear enough for me to extract something from it.  For example, there were kids out in a field, and a bus came and everyone had to run and get on it.  If they didn’t they’d die.  Survival of the fittest, I suppose.

I also have dice.  Dice are a great thing to have in your creativity box, as well as a coin.  These don’t give me inspiration, but I went on deviantArt and found some character worksheets, and they had one or both of these options. You can also come up with your own, (will this character stay?  Or will they go?). Those are a lot of fun to mess around with.

I also look at street names, cities, and spam email for inspiration for character names.  Wait, what?  Mom and I were on a road trip, and we were going through Louisiana, and there is a city names Toula.  I mean, come on, how awesome is that for a name?  As far as spam email, here are some that I just found: Katy Hanley, Lynn Milton, Lan Mavrick.

I also get inspired by other peoples’ stories.  A few of my coworkers have some…very…interesting life stories…

And then, we have this one.  The DIYMFA Writer Igniter.  I used this a couple of years ago during NaNoWriMo, and I have to say, that story is definitely one of my favorite stories that I’ve written.  I highly suggest at least clicking on the link and checking it out.

So, there you have it.  Of course, this isn’t everything that gives me inspiration, but it’s usually the stuff that I go to first.

What inspires you?  Comment below, or make your own blog post and leave the link.  I’d love to know!

This post is inspired by the DIYMFA Book Club writing prompt, “Fuel Your Creativity”.

  • If you would like to join the DIYMFA Book Club, click here.
  • If you would like to learn more about the book, click here.


Mom is going to school to be an EMT, and two of her requirements are going to the fire department and the ER to get some experience.  On Monday, Mom went to the fire department and went out on a run with an EMT.  She said it was ok, but she doesn’t know if she can ride in the back of an ambulance because it rocks too much.  It’s not that she has motion sickness, she just doesn’t like the rocking motion (especially when other drivers don’t know how to drive when an ambulance has on their sirens.  Hint hint).

But yesterday, Mom went to the ER.  When she picked me up from work, I asked her how it went, and she said she loved it.  She said it was exhilarating, but I could tell that wasn’t even a good enough word to explain how she felt.

She saw quite a few patients, but this blog post is only about one.  A guy was rolled in awake, alert, conscious, talking about what was wrong with him.  Thirty-five minutes later, he was dead.  Mom said the person she was following worked their butt off, doing CPR as hard as they could.  She said for twenty minutes, a team of at least four people rotated and tried to revive the guy.  But, to no avail.  The EMT that brought him in said they were familiar with his family.  And now, he’s gone.

Dear reader, I am here to tell you that life is precious.  You never know what could happen in the next day, or even minutes.  Please cherish every tick of the clock that you’re alive.  Hug your friends, kiss your family and loved ones.  Every little drama that you go through, every little thing that stresses you out and that you worry about, put it aside and live your life.

Take care of yourself. Life is way too precious not to.

I Choose To Disrupt

I am The Disruptor!

You’re drawn to larger-than-life characters who rebel against the status quo. Your stories champion people who will do whatever it takes to change their societies, overcome all odds, and defeat tyranny. Whether your character makes a small but significant personal choice or starts an all-out revolution, at the core your stories are about sharing your ideals with the world.

Take the DIYMFA Storytelling Superpower Quiz here.


Your character makes a small but significant personal choice.

I love telling people that they have a choice.  Not just in my writing, but in person as well.  I never believe people can’t get out of any type of situation that they’re in.  Everyone always has a choice.

Especially me.  Want to know something funny about me?  I’m pretty indecisive.  I make a choice, but then I tend to change my mind at the next millisecond.  It’s actually quite annoying, really.  I’m trying to change that.  But see?  I have a choice to stay the same, or try and change it.

I also have a hard time doing what people tell me to, if I think it’s illogical or they don’t give me a good reason as to why I should do it.  “That’s the way we’ve always done it around here.”  Well, I have a better idea, and that’s the way I’m going to do it.  Which is why I’m always open to new ideas.  If someone says they have a new idea, and they convince me as to why it’s logical and could work, I tend to respond with, “Let’s try it!”  Because I know my way is not always right, or makes the most sense.  Now, if only other people thought that way…

I don’t know if I write about rebels—although I’m sure I could twist my characters into being rebels—but I love to show them making, or not making, a choice, and the positive or negative consequence they go through.  Even though these stories are not out yet, here are some examples:

  • Times- Five high school students who are faced with their own situations, in which each has to make a choice.  Some do, some don’t.
  • The Bells At Quarter-To: Will Shakel be like her ancestors?  Or will she choose to end the curse?
  • A Bloody Favor- Will Toula let her past go?  Or will she continue making excuses because of it?  Will Barrett stay and change?  Or will he run away?
  • Taste Of You, Taste Of Me- Will Crystal go outside of her comfort zone and do what she knows she should?  Or will she do what she has always done?

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  Sarah, every story ever is all about making choices.  This is so not original.

I know, but hear me out.  In essence, we are not Katniss fighting for our lives in a killing match.  We are not Neo in another realm/dimension fighting computer programs (or are we?).  We are not Iron Man or Thor, teaming up with other superheroes to fight evil.

But, like Katniss, which guy/girl do we choose?  Like Neo, what will we choose to believe?  Like Iron Man and Thor, will we stand up to injustice, or something that tries to destroy our loved ones, or home, or safety?

I write about choices, and I choose to show people what happens when we take out all of the cinematic, frilly, visually attractive elements.  I like to write about us.  Everyday people.  The choices are my main subject.

Everyone has a choice.  And I want to show people that.  I want people to know what can happen when you make a choice, everyday.  To stay, to go, to hate, to love, to forgive, to resent.  Everyday, we wake up, and the first thing we do is make a choice: get out of bed, or lay there all day.

Everyday, we make choices.  And to have someone tell me they don’t have any other choice, to me, that’s unheard of.  There is always an answer.  Always.

My answer?  Disrupt.  Disrupt people’s way of thinking, disrupt their view of the world, or their situation, disrupt the mundane and give people new ways of looking at things.  And that is how I write.  I want people to see themselves in these characters.  I want them to think, to believe, to get angry, to cry, to make a decision about their own life.

I want people to know that they have a choice.  All hope is never lost.  There is always an answer.

This post is inspired by the DIYMFA Book Club writing prompt, “What’s Your Storytelling Superpower?”.

  • If you would like to join the DIYMFA Book Club, click here.
  • If you would like to learn more about the book, click here.
  • If you would like to take the DIYMFA Storytelling Superpower Quiz, click here.

I Am Of The World Of Writing

Writing is hard. It is.  Really.  And don’t let anyone tell you any different. It’s especially hard when you’re…well, me.

I am an introvert, and I process the world much differently than other people.  Being an introvert, I find that I get drained, mentally, quickly and easily.  Most of the time, this is because of the job that I have.

I work in a deli in a convenient store.  Now, my problem with being mentally drained doesn’t really apply so much in the down season (Fall/Winter).  But once the store starts getting busy, that’s when I start getting bogged down.

Lots of commotion equals less mental energy for writing. If I have to take in a lot of information (deli orders) for a long period of time (6 1/2-8 hours), plus doing all of the work that I have to in order to close the deli (cleaning, mostly), that’s less energy I’ll have for writing when I get home.

Not only do I have to deal with deli orders and cleaning, I also have to deal with drama.  Drama is a huge issue during the summer, and it often leads to me coming home in a slump, with absolutely no ambition to write anything, not even a simple blog post.

I have gone through some of my toughest writing dry spells within the past almost four years of working in this deli.  I have gone months without writing even a simple note.  Working and writing just never seemed to fit together. Anywhere. At all.

2012 was my last time I won NaNoWriMo.  The years after that were filled with anything but words.  It wasn’t until last year (2017) that I decided that I had to win.  I had to make writing and working co-exist.  I couldn’t let my work environment dictate how I felt about writing.  I had to figure out how to make them work together.

I found a schedule. I figured out when my best writing time was, and I sat my butt down in front of my computer, and I wrote.  All the crap that happened at work that day faded as I planted myself into my story. And you know what?  I won!

After that, I took a hard look at my writing life, and I realized that I was being too hard on myself. I wanted to write so bad, that when I didn’t, I would beat myself up to the point where I would feel worse. It was a vicious cycle that I had to stop. Once I realized that I had devised a plan for NaNo, I had to devise a plan outside of NaNo. I had to pinpoint my plan that wasn’t working, then I had to come up with one that would.

So, I decided to not have a plan. I decided to let go, and let the supply flow.

Not having a plan saved my writing life.  I feel free.  I feel no pressure from myself, and that makes me want to write.

That makes me free to write.

I love writing. I love to write. It makes me happy. Whatever kind of day I have outside of my writing life, I know I can come back to this life, pressure free, and live a life I can create for myself. Yes, I live in this world, but I am not of this world.  I am of the world of writing.

This post is inspired by the DIYMFA Book Club writing prompt, “Honor Your Reality”.

  • If you would like to join the DIYMFA Book Club, click here.
  • If you would like to learn more about the book, click here.

Sarah D’Anne’s Origin Story

I know I have shared this story before, but it never hurts to revisit it.

I descibe my journey by saying, “I wrote something, Mom liked it, so I became a writer.” And for the most part, this is true. But let me go back a little farther.

I was an only child to a single mom. My parents were divorced, and my dad was living quite a ways away from us. Even when he was watching me while Mom was at work, I would still go off on my own and make up stories.

There was a garage that had a “jungle” behind it, and when I went through it and around the garage and I emerged on the other side, I was in a different world, with different people, and different problems.

My bike was a horse, and I would ride it over to my elementary school that was just around the corner. There, I would hop on boats, and spaceships and get trapped in dungeons (which I would escape from because I’m stealthy like that).

Back at home, my dad and I would hunt bears with guns (or sticks).

Now, back with my mother, I still went off and did my own thing, but Mom was pretty much my playmate. I had an imaginary sister who was mean to me, so I didn’t play with her much.

Mom was fortunate to have one job where she could bring me. She worked at a golf course, and I pretty much had a run of the place because everyone knew me and loved me. I would dance on the stage in the ballroom, and use the golf carts as taxies.

One day, I wandered into my mom’s boss’ office. I sat in his big swivle chair, and put my little seven year old fingers to the keyboard and typed something along the lines of, “There once was a boy who went into the woods. There was a lake and in it he saw…”.

That’s it. That’s all she wrote. And my mother loved it. And I decided to be a writer.

Now, listen. I had drawn many pictures up to this point that my mother loved. Why didn’t I decide to be an illistrator? Because I couldn’t draw worth a darn. Some might say I couldn’t write worth a darn either. But “something” told me I was a writer. And I believed it.

I wrote multiple stories over the next few years, using my “only child” imagination to fuel the smoke not yet a fire. In 2010, while in college studying audio production, I participated in my first NaNoWriMo. But the fire never flickered until two years later.

During summer break, I went to visit my dad. I had been having a rough time in school, and when I told him I wanted to quit, he adamantly told me, “No.” Now, mind you, he hadn’t been in my life for a while, and my mom had the final word, but if this was a foreshadowing of what my mother would be like, I was in for it.

One night, I caught myself writing at two in the morning. And it hit me. I’d rather write at two in the morning than mix a song. I knew I was a writer. I just had to convince my mom.

It wasn’t that hard. Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Mom, I want to quit college to be a writer.

Mom: Ok, start a blog.

Six years later, I have a blog and two published short stories. The only reason I published the first one was because I burned my foot at work and I couldn’t do anything anyway. I figured I’d use that time to mark “Publish Something” off of my todo list. The other one was just because I could.

With countless finished and unfinished stories/books under my belt, you’d think I’d have more stuff published. But honestly, I haven’t had much mental energy for the past four years. I’m so drained from my job that I just don’t write anymore. I wish I could say, “Mom, I want to quit my job to become a writer.” But Mom doesn’t have a stable job right now, so I have to support us. It’s hard enough for me to even write a blog post.

I do want to publish something this year, though. I have ideas (I always have ideas), but I have to actal sit down and do something with them. That takes time, energy, umph, and patience, four things I haven’t had lately.

But anyway, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

This post is inspired by the DIYMFA Book Club writing prompt, “What’s Your Origin Story?”.

  • If you would like to join the DIYMFA Book Club, click here.
  • If you would like to learn more about the book, click here.

Rewinding God

Exodus 24:18 (NIV) Then Moses entered the cloud as he went on up the mountain. And he stayed on the mountain forty days and forty nights.

Can we talk about Moses for a minute?  More specifically, can we talk about his memory?

So, here we have a picture of Moses going up on a mountain for quite a long time.  I mean, in our time, he stayed on a mountain, with God, for a month and ten days.  Ok, cool.  Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with the Big Man Upstairs?

But there’s a catch.  You’re not asking Him the important questions in life, like, “Who made You?” or, “What is the meaning of life?” or, “What’s the deal with mustard?”  No, for the next month and ten days, God is giving you instructions.  What kind of instructions?  Here are some things God lays out:

  • Offerings of the tabernacle
    • Gold, silver and bronze; blue, purple, and scarlet yarn and fine linen; goat hair; ram skins dyed red and hides of sea cows
    • Make a sanctuary
    • Make a tabernacle
  • The Ark
    • A chest of acacia wood (plus the length, width, height, wight, shape, size, form, color, density, mass…I’m going a little overboard here)
    • Poles, rings, the Testimony, a covering, cherubim, et cetera
  • The Table
    • Plates, dishes, pitchers, bowls, bread
  • The Lampstand
    • Oh, I’m sure you get it by now
  • The Tabernacle
  • The Alter of Burnt Offering
  • The Courtyard
  • Oil for the Lampstand
  • The Priestly Garments
  • And oh my goodness, the Consecration of the Priests goes on for 46 verses!

God seriously talks to Moses from chapter 25 to 32.  That’s 7 chapters of God talking!

Now, may I turn your attention to us humans for a second?  Put yourself back in school.  How long are high school classes, an hour?  Two hours?  How many times, during a lecture, did you (or the teacher’s pet) say, “Can you repeat that?”  And so the teacher had to rewind and say what they just said so you could complete your notes.

Not one time in those seven chapters does it say, “Moses raised his hand and said, ‘Lord, Thy words have fallen upon human ears, and have entered into a human mind.  May You show mercy upon Thy humble servant and say those words once more?'” as he picked up his stick and prepared to scribble in the dust.

In fact, no where does it say that Moses took notes at all.  He sat there for forty days and forty nights, in the presence of God Himself, and just listened to Him.  It never said that Moses rewound God.

How did he do it?  How did he remember seven chapters of instruction?  Without notes?

We hear God say two words to us, and we do a double take and cry out, “Wait a second! Pause and rewind! Whatchu say?”

Ideas (And Roads) Are Paved With Good Intentions

I don’t feel like it’s a new year.  I really don’t.  I have to tell myself that last night was New Year’s Eve.  It seems like a few other people feel this way too.  It’s like no one cares.  It’s like today was just like any other day.  No, ‘New year, new me,” feeling.

But that doesn’t change the fact that it is a new year.  And with a new year, comes new goals, resolutions, and ‘never agains.’

Now, I have goals, but I’m not holding myself to them.  I’m more of a, “We’ll see what happens,” type of girl, myself.  Go wherever the Spirit leads me.  My goals are more of, “I’d like to,” than, “I will.”  Things I’m going to try to do, but won’t beat myself up if I don’t succeed.

I’d like to read at least six books.  That allows me two months to finish a book, which is perfect because I tend to read a few pages, and then wander off to some craft project.  I already have three books lined up, but let’s see if I even get past the first one, shall we?

I’d also like to publish something this year.  I have an idea or two, but ideas (and roads) are paved with good intentions.  Generating ideas isn’t the hard part (sometimes), it’s going through with it that seems to stop me.

That’s about it for personal goals.  As far as goals for the blog, one of them involves me going against the “rules” which is a piece of cake for me.

They say that, in order to run a successful blog, you need to write on a consistent schedule.  And you know, I tried that.  Every Saturday, I tried to publish a blog post.  And that did work for a while, until I had no ideas, or I had ideas, but it wasn’t Saturday, and by the time I sat down to write said idea, it was gone or I didn’t think it was good enough.  Or, and this happened a lot, I had an idea and I wanted to write it, but then something else came up and I wrote that instead, and then I lost the other idea, and it all went downhill from there.  Why I just didn’t write it and schedule it for Saturday, or the following Saturday, I don’t know.

Which is why I’m going to break the rules.  I’m not going to write on a consistent schedule.  What?!  That’s right!  When I have an idea, I’m going to write it and I’m going to publish it that day, and that’s that.  Plain and simple.  Ipso facto.

Sarah, why don’t you just do what you said and write it and then schedule it?  Because I don’t want to.

Oh, ok.

Now, with the above being said, this gives me freedom to not write at all, does it not?  I can pretend that I don’t have any ideas so I don’t feel bad when I don’t write for a few months (if this happens).

But, this also gives me the freedom to…not write at all.  Wait, didn’t you just say that?  Yes.  But.  With this freedom, I don’t feel confined to one specific day, and, I don’t feel pressured to come up with ideas when I don’t feel like I have any good ones.  With that in mind, I can have the freedom to come and go as I please, which will most likely make me come back more often.  See?  Psychology.

As far as what I will be writing, that I am not sure of.  It will be a surprise for all of us!

And with that, I’m off!  I shall talk to you guys whenever I get an idea.  It’s going to be a very interesting year, blog wise.  I can’t wait to see what pops up.

Happy New Year!