Write Every Day

Write every day. 

That's what every professor said. What every writing book says. What authors say. 

I try, but sometimes I'm empty. 

Many of my college friends seem to skirt around this by blogging something they wrote during their Northwestern days. A poem they sketched for a daily assignment, or a longer, edited, personal piece.

I still hate 90% of what I wrote during college. I didn't like it then and it hasn't been improved. I felt like I never had enough time or enough drafts to clean up a piece to where I truly loved it—loved every single word choice, was committed to every metaphor, and trusted its aesthetic. 

College is long behind me now, and theoretically at least, everything I write now is endless. There are no deadlines; I don't have to commit to a piece being "finished." And that's a problem of its own. I have no one forcing me to rush up four flights of stairs to turn in my personal essay as Hougen's packing her bag for the night. No one is expecting my work. 

This blog houses most of the creative work I do—which is admittedly, not very much.

Maybe someday—this week even?—as I force myself to write every day, I'll add something creative.