On being present.

On being present.

It seems to be this way every year — I wake up and it’s suddenly January. Christmas lights have been taken down, cinnamon candles snuffed out, gingerbread cookies meeting their fate at the bottom of a Glad bag. And the holiday season — my favorite season — has come and gone in a daze.

On writer’s block and making time for the things you love.

On writer’s block and making time for the things you love.

I have writer’s block.

I know, color you surprised. This has happened before, but this time is a little different. Yes, I don’t know what to write about, which is essentially one of the definitions of writer’s block, but I can’t seem to distinguish whether it is, in fact, writer’s block, or if I’ve just been too busy to actually form a cohesive thought.

The impossibility of writing about yourself.

The impossibility of writing about yourself.

Last week, I was asked to write a bio for myself that would appear underneath every byline I have on a corporate blog. I panicked. I don’t know what to say about myself! About a year ago, I had a short bio written for me for my bylines in iMedia Connection. I decided to recycle that bio — update my job title, added a link to my Twitter account and call it a day.

I still write.

I still write.

I was 12 when I received my first journal. It was cream in color, glazed with floral details and complete with a brass lock and a key. I attached the key to a chain and wore it around my neck every day. I feared if I ever removed the necklace, I would instantly lose the key and anyone would be able to break into my thoughts. I was probably right.