To illustrate, let me tell you what has happened with this blog. As you know, if you’ve been reading, my husband and I have been in the throes of making a big decision. We’ve been a little busy. So it has been harder than usual to find time to write. Also, my brain has been occupied with gnawing on the various pieces of this decision, and not with the usual random assortment of thoughts that I like to share with you. Some of the issues at play in our decision-making are probably of broader interest, but after a while I figured you’d get tired of hearing about my angst. (After a while, I got tired of it myself.) And because the decision has involved some delicate negotiations, I have not felt free to share all of my musings with the big wide world.

The upshot of all of this is that I stopped writing. And immediately started feeling guilty. (I have literally had “blog” on my to-do list for weeks now.) The longer I waited, the worse I felt, until I didn’t even want to think about blogging because it instantly conjured up all these feelings of failure and regret and frustration. Sitting down to write a post stopped being fun, and started to feel like this miserable, looming chore.

But the truth is, of course, that writing a post is as simple and pleasant as it has always been—as I remembered the instant I sat down at the keyboard just now. The hard part was getting over the emotional barrier that I created when I lost my rhythm.

Writer’s block is a well-known phenomenon, but I notice this pattern in just about every arena of my life. I miss a call from a friend I haven’t talked with in a while, and for whatever reason, don’t return the call right away. And then I spend weeks with “call friend” on my mental list, but feel increasingly sheepish about the delay, and decreasingly likely to just pick up the phone. Or I get in a good exercise routine, but then miss a few days, and a few more, and pretty soon I have to start all over again, convincing myself that I really am the kind of person who exercises and that I should just lace up my shoes and go.

In every instance, resuming the lost routine is much easier in practice than it is in my imagination. In fact, it is usually instantly satisfying because it removes the whole mess of guilt I’ve been carrying around. The frustrating part is that although I am fully aware of this pattern, and recognize it as it is happening, I still succumb to it more often than I would care to admit.

What do you do when you lose your stride…in your work, your hobbies, your relationships? Any tricks for getting back in the saddle more gracefully?

And it’s true—I do find it more engaging than shows about cops and doctors and other things far removed from my identity. From time to time I imagine taking on all those ad men at their testosterone-fueled game. (My character is, of course, ravishingly beautiful, dazzlingly smart, tough as nails, and funny besides.)

But I must confess that when it comes to TV fantasies, my true heart lies elsewhere.  I am, and will forever be, a speechwriter for President Josiah Bartlet. We watched all seven seasons of The West Wing last winter, and at one point I went so far as to do some internet research about speechwriting careers. I realize that it is probably not quite like it looks on TV. (It doesn’t help, though, that President Obama’s main speechwriter is a brilliant young phenom and something of a celebrity besides.)

Who would you play on TV? And what does it reveal about what you want in your real-world career?

Basically, the gist is that a little kid shows up to a get-together at the author’s house wearing a crown and announces that he is the King of Pretending, which over the course of the day he proves, in fact, to be. And the take-away lesson is that we should celebrate our talents and cultivate them, rather than trying to shore up our weaknesses. The “fix the weaknesses” strategy can only lead to mediocrity, while focusing on gifts breeds greatness. (Examples: what if Tiger Woods had opted to improve his auto mechanic skills or Einstein had spent his time trying to be a pianist…)

A little sappy, perhaps, but not bad for bathroom literature.

I’d never thought of it quite this way, but this is why I write. I’m really good at writing. I like it. A lot. I love the process of fitting words together–I lose myself in it and find joy in getting it right. I’ve gotten compliments on my writing for as long as I can remember.

I hesitate to call my writing a gift or a passion–those are some pretty loaded words. But it’s the closest thing I have to either one. I started my writing business (and this blog) because I decided it was time to commit to the thing I do best. It was a good decision. Maybe someday I will be the Queen of Words.

I know you all have blogs you can’t live without. Bring on the barrage of suggestions!

Penelope Trunk’s Brazen Careerist

Career advice, especially about work in the new millennium. Also a lot about her own crazy career, her kids, and her sex life.  I’m a little addicted to this blog right now, but I feel okay about it because so are 30,000 other people.

Domestic Disturbances

Judith Warner’s weekly blog for the New York Times. She wrote Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety, which I read during pregnancy while others were poring over baby name books, and her blog riffs on all the same themes. In a glamorous alternate version of my life I think I would be her.

Writer Mama

Author (and mama) Christina Katz and lots of guest bloggers offer down-to-earth tips to get you off your butt and building a freelance career.

Seth Godin’s Blog

Reading this big-time marketing blog makes me feel much more business-savvy and tech-savvy and generally cool that I actually am. I also love how short and meaty his posts are.

Water Words That Work

Not just for enviros. This blog is a round-up of good, bad, and ugly attempts at environmental marketing and communication. It’s a great touchstone for all of us whose work is persuasion, regardless of the issue.

Chicken Lit

This is my friend Karen Bassler’s blog about all kinds of random stuff. (Her tagline is “What’s Collected in My Feather Duster”) Like Karen, it’s funny and feisty, and it inspires me.

1. Surround yourself with great writing. This doesn’t mean you have to spend all your time reading Shakespeare or James Joyce.  (Though maintaining a passing acquaintance with literature is not a bad idea.) Read what you love–great writing can be found in many quarters. If you’re like me, you’re tuned into language and instinctively know the difference between good and bad. Don’t waste your time with mediocre words. Immerse yourself in powerful, passionate prose and hope that it will leave its mark on you.
2. Pay attention. All the time. As your mother always said, practice makes perfect. If you practice lousy writing, that’s what you’ll get good at. We write all day long–use this opportunity to your advantage. Edit your emails for passive voice. Strive for striking metaphor in your memos. Probably no one else will notice, but you will feel smug about it anyway, and you’ll become a stronger writer in the process.
3. Start training. The work you do in #2 will keep you from turning into a flabby verbal couch-potato, but if you’re serious about building your writing skills, you’ll want to commit to regular writing practice. Take a class. Find a writing buddy who will hold you accountable and give thoughtful critique. Read writing books and practice the techniques they teach you.

Sadly, my experience is that conscious writing, like healthful eating or regular exercise, is a commitment that takes work and energy. Stop paying attention and you’ll backslide. But, like any other salutary habit, it gets easier with time, and the rewards are well worth the effort.